Incursion
by Seaneta
Summary: Unbeknownst to the Avengers, and the entire world, the real Steve Rogers is held hostage by Skrulls while one wears his face. Tony knows Steve has been acting strange lately, and he's uneasy with the Captain's sudden personality shift. And when the real Rogers escapes, the Captain isn't pleased with what he finds. (Rated M to be safe)
1. Silver

I'm planning for three more chapters, assuming this gets a good response! The next three will probably be a lot longer.

I've been reading a few Skrull-stories, and my own drabbles have turned into this.

* * *

The infiltration was quiet.

The Skrulls had been planning the subtle takeover of planet Earth for a handful of years now; ever since they discovered a space warp linking the habitable planet and their own galaxy. It was a new world to conquer, but they were not rash or naïve. No, they knew of the failed Chitauri invasion led by a Frost Giant named Loki, and were very much content to hold off on a full assault for the time being. Using a more coherent approach, with the utmost cautious measures, a handful of scout warriors were sent to infiltrate Earth to examine the world as a potential colony. Of course, aware of the unsuccessful alien invasion, the group of Earth-bound Skrulls knew of the only people who would have the potential of standing in their way of a global scale conquest. They were aware of the only people who could hold a probable threat to their plans; SHIELD and the proclaimed _Earth's Mightiest Heroes_. The Avengers.

It was only natural for the leader of this combatant group to successfully penetrate this super-powered team by subduing and posing as the Earth's leader. It was the obvious move to make. As the leader of the Avengers, he could gain valuable information on the SHIELD agency. He could study the Avengers more closely, learn of any weaknesses. He would have access to security codes, hidden arsenals, and information on international reinforcements and allies outside of SHIELD the Skrulls may not have accounted for. Nothing would get passed the Skrull disguised as one of the world's most righteous and charismatic leader: Captain America. Under the guise of that man, any Skrull could ruin the most feared and prestigious global security with a flick of his wrist.

That was what the alien, _Roksor_, had explained to the man standing behind the vibrant blue force field. It was a pathetic holding cell by his home planet's standards, but it certainly held its purpose for humans at the peak of physical perfection. It easily contained and trapped the super soldier identified as Steven Rogers; better known as Steve, Captain Rogers, or Cap. And, yes, as the leader of the small team of Skrull spies, Roksor knew everything about the self-proclaimed '_kid from Brooklyn_'. It was a gift of his people, possessing the ability to absorb the memories, the personality traits, and the overall _essence_ of a living thing by a mere physical touch. It could be a handshake, a tap on a leg or an arm. Even a subtle prick of a finger and the Skrull could disguise themselves as the organism with all their memories and traits. And the Captain had horrible luck, apparently, as Roksor managed to lay a hand on him before throwing him behind the wall of energy.

"What do you mean? Disguise?" The Captain breathed, who took a break from his constant pounding against the barrier to glare at the green man before him. He still had his shield and armor as he stood within the small prison, but none of it was useful. The strange aliens knew this apparently, as they had no qualms luring him fully armed into the trap earlier. The entire mission started off as strange, which should have tipped off the soldier from the very beginning. But he was used to bizarre ever since the Battle of New York; Norse Gods, aliens, mind controlling scepters…since then, his life felt like those _Action Comics_ his persona was the main character of, like it was some kind of eerie foreshadowing.

Knowing that abnormal counted as his standard now, Rogers made the mistake of undermining the predictably placed security guards when him and his team entered what intel believed to be another Hydra base. He undermined the expected gunfight and the difficulty at reaching the command center. Really, now that he realized it was all a ploy, the entire assault seemed obnoxiously staged. And now he was paying the price of his mistake from these…Skrulls?

Steve had to hope his team made it out before the genuine attack began. All their comms had shortened out before he was apprehended; so he _had_ to believe they escaped and were coming back with reinforcements. Because Rogers needed them. This complex force field… inside this alien base… with numerous Skrulls watching him as he spoke to their leader… to this green-skinned man with pointed ears. He had no idea what he was up against, and even his situation was unfamiliar. Yes, he had been in prisoner-situations before with the Howling Commandos, but there was always a way out through the bars or containment cells. This time, he was dealing with alien tech and alien captors. Not to mention, he was _alone_.

"I mean precisely what I said. To masquerade, to become someone you are not. Haven't you been listening, Steven Rogers?" Roksor taunted in a strange accent.

"You're going to put on my costume to get our surveillance plans? Access codes? With that skin and the friends I have, you wouldn't make it to the Tower's lobby." Steve wasn't stupid, and neither were these Skrulls. They managed to catch him after all, and trick Sam, Natasha, and Maria in the process. But this alien, Roksor, said his people had a gift for disguise. And Steve wanted to know just how good it was by coaxing it out of him. He needed to know just what he was dealing with.

"You underestimate our abilities, but it doesn't matter. Once I complete my assignment, we will kill you and the Avengers." The alien noticed one of his own stepping forth, and watched it give a curt nod before commanding it to speak.

"His team is searching for him. We cannot stall for much longer."

Roksor turned back to the captured Captain behind the pulsating blue wall. "For now, you are still valuable to us alive, so make yourself comfortable, Steven Rogers."

The soldier's eyes widened. The alien's skin turned into a natural shade of peach, his eyes shifted into a light blue color, and his height increased a few inches. The transformation was fluid and quick. Within milliseconds Roksor took on the form of Captain America, including his colorful suit; every small tear and grime stain matching his own. The alien even manifested his shield.

The imposture slipped off the cowl then, as to brag that, _yes_, he even took on Steven's face perfectly; down to the light stubble that traced along his jaw line and the casual way his golden locks swept to the right. It was unnerving to look into his own face, especially one that donned such a menacing look he thought wasn't possible to make.

"And allow me to take over for you during your absence."

Steve faltered, speechless from Roksor's words. He had even stolen his voice.

* * *

For two weeks, the real Steve Rogers was a captive in the small cell. Although he came to realize the Skrulls were not familiar with human society or even their biology, he was thankful they knew enough to give him food and other basic necessities.

At first, the food was laced with something that tasted like suppressants, but the drugs never worked on him with the serum and the aliens stopped, becoming conscious of that. Steve knew the Skrulls were trying to weaken him, make him unwilling to fight against the force field that kept him separated from escaping. But his will was too strong and his determination never wavered. He _had_ to get out, he couldn't count on anyone saving him if Roksor was successful with his deception. He was on his own now. No help was going to come.

He also knew how much time passed from the meals he was given. Without any windows or clocks, he had to rely on the three trays of food to designate what time it was and when to sleep. During his free time, which was anytime he wasn't reluctantly eating their dull meals, he would experiment on new ways to escape the cell. But even Captain America had to take a break. He tried to speak to the guards who took rotations watching over him. At first, it was a way to gain intel or to manipulate them into telling him how to penetrate the field, but after the first few days, Steve just wanted the company. He realized it was a disturbing rationale, but the blond had memories of rescuing lieutenants and privates from the war who had gone crazy from isolation. He didn't know if that was possible with the serum, but he didn't want to risk the chance.

The habit of talking to the Skrulls died quickly, however.

It didn't take long for Rogers to realize they possessed knowledge of his social circle, and they soon took turns changing into his friends. Although the likeness was eerie, the Nick-Skrull was laughable; no one, especially an alien, could compete with Fury's brazen quips. Bruce and Natasha's impersonations were almost as horrible without the aliens knowing what their personalities were like. The one portrayed the Russian as a stereotypical hair-twirling ditz, which was just as sexist as it was ridiculous. Thor's imitator was decent, but maybe the Asgardian's homeland was relatively close to the Skrull's. Who was to say aliens haven't heard of the demi-god before or at least knew of him?

The game got old fast. By what he believed to be his eleventh day imprisoned, Steve just began to ignore the taunting aliens. Or tried to.

* * *

"Come on, man, tell your friend what's been troubling you."

A Skrull disguised as Sam Wilson sat a few feet away from the cell. Rogers sat on the cement, tired from near-exhaustion. He never ate the last four meals given to him, and after exerting force against the blue wall for numerous hours, the soldier tried to regain any strength he could by sitting along the floor, legs sprawled out. This was a new Skrull, or maybe it was one he met already; he couldn't tell anymore. They always took the shape of one of his friends. They always looked similar in their original form.

"We don't want you dead," The Sam-Skrull continued, "Or, well, dead on _your _terms."

Steve had to admit, this impersonation was pretty decent so far. If the Sam-Skrull didn't walk down the corridor with a tray of foul food earlier, he would have had the fleeting thought that it really was Sam, rescuing him. He knew better, though. No one was coming. Not with that imposter out there.

He heard the alien sigh, but refused to look over anymore. It was unnerving to see Sam's eyes, or anyone's eyes, so empty.

"This isn't like the noble Captain. Not from what we've seen and heard of you. Why would you starve yourself?" He barked a laugh. "The food isn't _that_ bad, is it?"

"Not hungry."

"Huh. That's a shame. You _do_ know we stopped trying to drug you? The food isn't laced anymore. Not because you found out though. It's just," The Sam-Skrull shrugged, "even with your strength, we realized you still can't get out. So, you know, what's the point of wasting the tonic?"

Rogers tried on multiple occasions to escape when a guard would slide the tray of food through the force field. He watched them press their hands against the blue wall, then listened to a faint hum emitting from the shield. The wall would reveal a very small, rectangular opening on the bottom; just the perfect length for the plate to slide through. It would immediately close afterwards. Steve wasn't quick enough the first few times, but during the moments he was, the closing wall stung his hand. It was a sensation close to being electrified.

"You used to talk more," it chimed. "What's wrong? I thought Sam was your best friend."

Steve heard a sound that was only recently familiar to his ears, and he finally looked back over to the Sam-Skrull to see what was happening. But it wasn't Sam anymore. The alien changed its form into someone with rugged hair and a metal arm. Steve felt his breath escape him.

"How about now?" Bucky smiled. "You and I used to be pretty close, huh?"

"Stop it," Steve gritted through his teeth and looked away with a glare. He wasn't going to give that damn alien the satisfaction of rousing his anger.

"Oh come on," it laughed, and thankfully it was _way off_ of his lost friend's heart-warming chuckle. The Skrulls may know what his friends look like, but they couldn't capture their spirit, their core. "You haven't seen me in years, punk. We have a lot to catch up on. Wanna let me know what you've been up to?"

The blond stayed silent.

"Okay, well, as for _me_, I run with a new crowd now. Not sure if you heard of 'em. After that nasty fall, they gave me this kickass arm." The Bucky-Skrull held up the metal arm with a proud gesture and dumb grin. "And, boy, you thought I was a crackshot before? Ha. My hair is a little wild, but you know, I'm sure a barbershop is close by somewhere-"

"_Shut the hell up_." Steve jumped on his feet and turned around so he wouldn't have to look at Bucky's face, even if it wasn't really him. He felt like throwing something, but every shitty amenity in his cell was connected to the ground. He couldn't budge anything.

"The nerve some people have."

Peggy. It was _Peggy's_ voice now. Steve turned.

These Skrulls had too much information on him, and the male began to suspect they were all somehow mentally linked to each other. That would make sense; Roksor stole his memories, and now every alien here had them as well.

It wasn't an ideal scenario. The soldier began to worry they'd start changing into his late parents.

Steve met the alien's gaze dead on either way, challenging it as it wore his first love's face.

"I'm sitting here, just trying to talk to you after giving you a lovely dinner," The Peggy-Skrull mocked. "And you're being an absolute jerk, Rogers. Do you know how boring it is to watch you for seven of these Earth-hours?" It noticed the soldier's clenched fists and smirked. "You're not going to tell me what's wrong. Why you're not eating? Is it because Roksor is making a mockery of your suit? Are you worried he's ruining all your friendships? All your ties?" A crackle echoed in the room. "Get over it. He took your place. He's you now. You're no one. Well, actually, you won't even _be_ soon. We'll kill you the moment we get the word." It stood up then and made a show of brushing off invisible dirt from Peggy's military skirt. "So, eat, don't eat. It will just make the actual killing-you part easier in the end."

The guards continued to taunt him with his friend's faces each of their rotations. But what forced Steve to ignore the guards completely? What made him see red and his knuckles turn white? On the twelfth day, when he saw Tony on the other end of the force field.

He knew it was coming; if the aliens had his memories, why wouldn't one change into his boyfriend of eight months? Frankly, the soldier was surprised they waited this long. Maybe they saved the best for last. Maybe he was doing to die that day, by an alien with Tony's face.

But he didn't. A Skrull had just decided to amuse itself (himself? herself? He couldn't tell what gender they were) by taking on the brunet's appearance 24/7. They didn't know he was linked with Ironman, or didn't bother to make the reference, but they certainly knew the billionaire's intimate connection with the Captain. But he successfully ignored the guard dressed as Tony as _he_ greeted him with his meals, as _he_ blew him a kiss when _he _took a seat to smile and watch him burn off excess energy by exercising, even if Steve was inwardly screaming. The transformation into his partner was disturbingly good, even if the Skrull didn't get his personality quite right and the alien wardrobe helped destroy the illusion. But the man's brown eyes and smile alone made Steve uncomfortable enough to look away.

Rogers never gave up as a few more days passed, although he had to bring his food-strike to an end. The thoughts of what the imposture was doing with his face gave him all the motivation he needed to never stop trying. He scanned the walls over a million times, looking for cracks or other weaknesses where he could use his strength to dwindle the cell. The force field he couldn't figure out; there was no generator in sight, no apparent weakness. It never flickered when he punched or threw his shield against it. It was just a pulsating wall of energy, and tiny rivulets of what looked to be electricity followed whenever he made contact.

"Our base here is primitive compared to our technology at home. But that barrier is impenetrable."

Steve looked through the wall of energy, at the alien still wearing Tony's skin. The Skrull must have just entered, and it brought something else besides a tray of bland food this time. He grimaced and dropped his shield with a clamor on the ground.

"Care to tell me how to disable it?"

The alien gave a friendly, almost innocent smile with the brunet's mouth and Steve had to push aside the bile that threatened to rise. "You've been asking that since you got here, dearest."

"And I've been telling you to stop calling me that." Rogers watched as the alien sauntered closer to the cell and placed a hand on its hip, as if it _knew_ Tony's mannerisms well enough to get Steve distracted or riled up. The Skrull slowly kneeled on the floor then, never breaking contact from the blond's eyes, and pressed its hand against the energy field so it could slide the tray of food through. It was an awfully submissive pose, as much as seductive, but he was in relationship with the real Tony long enough to know he wouldn't take that stance with such tasteless grace. The alien stood then, and had to tilt its head back to lock eyes with Steve's blue ones. He could finally make out what the fake-Tony held beneath its arm.

The Skrull realized what he was looking at, and with a sly look Steve didn't like know existed on the billionaire's face, it took it in its hands and flipped it open.

"Today's paper," it chimed with the brunet's voice, "Thought you'd like to see." The alien turned the newspaper around.

It was the _New York Times_. In huge, bold font Steve read the headline, _The_ _Captain's Controversial Address_. He couldn't make out any words from the constant throb and pulse of the energy wall, but the picture was _him_ in front of the White House, apparently giving some sort of speech that sent the nation into some sort of frenzy. That wasn't good. Whatever the Skrull was doing to his reputation, it was working. It had been about two weeks now and still there looked to be no hope at the true identity of the man wearing Steve's face.

But the Skrull impersonating Tony pulled the newspaper back in its arms, that wicked smirk still plastered there. Steve thrashed against the wall in frustration, not caring if that was what the alien aimed for by showing him that headline in the first place.

"Personally, I like the article on the fourth page better," it shrugged, not fazed by his rage. "Seems like Roksor isn't just dabbling in politics." Once again, the Tony-Skrull flipped through pages and turned it around so Rogers could see. It was another picture, but it was much grainer than the last. The font was bold, but too small for him to read it. Steve blinked a few times, the radiant blue straining his eyes as he tried to focus on the photo alone. It was him again, no, not him, it was the Skrull disguised as him, with _Tony_, the real Tony slung along the Steve-Skrull's arm. They were both smiling, and it looked like they were walking down steps out of a building.

Tony didn't realize he was with an imposter-Tony didn't- no, he was fucking _Ironman_ for Christ's sake. He was a genius, a brilliant man. Maybe he was just putting on a show, pretending everything was normal until he could find proof or find the real Captain America.

Steve backed away from the cell, snarling at the alien in his boyfriend's skin. "He wouldn't fall for such a trick," was all that he managed to say.

It scoffed, folding the paper back under its arm. "Our race has _perfected_ the art of shape-shifting, Steven. We can become anything we imagine. One glance is all we need." It gestured to its body as the brunet, and a hand traveled up its neck and into the locks of hair, twirling a few. "If I would touch even a _hair_ on your friend's head, I would have access to his mind as well as his appearance. I would _become_ him, and _you_ wouldn't think twice about whether or not I was the genuine article."

Steve found himself breathing heavily, his knuckles clenched tightly into fists at his sides. "I doubt that," he seethed.

"Roksor has your memories, Steven." The Tony-Skrull sighed, stepping as close as it could against the energy field, "He knows everything about you. Everything you were and currently _are_. And everything you ever thought you might become. Your thoughts, feelings, joys, fears. Your secrets. Your love." It smiled, showing off Tony's- _its_ teeth, "_Your life is his now_."

Steve seized the opportunity and lunged for the Skrull dumb enough to get that close. He used everything he had to drive his serum-induced strength through the shield; his rage for Roksor, his frustrations from being imprisoned, his fury at the fucker for using Tony's face. The force field jolted immediately from his hands penetrating the wall and a strange static sound buzzed. The Skrull didn't move, utterly shocked from the feat, and that's what Rogers counted on as his hands found purchase around its neck. The entire wall was oscillating, pulsing wildly at the objects that shouldn't be interfering with its connected stream of energy. Steve roared as he used his strength to pull the Skrull into the field and the electricity-like beats ran through the alien, causing its form to revert back to its green-skinned and pointy-eared self.

Its entire body was within the field now, as well as Rogers's own hands, but he fought through the pain until the wall finally broke down from the prolonged interruption. Steve dropped the corpse and it hit the ground with a heavy thud. Other guards would burst through the corridor any moment; Rogers had to act fast. He wasted no time slinging his shield along his arm, giving the horrible tray of food a good kick, before he escaped the small prison by running down a narrow hallway. There were plenty of other Skrulls to fight against, yes, but Steve had a better motive this time than to just complete a mission. He was going to get his life back, get his friends back. Get Tony back. First order of business; he was going to shut down this base single-handedly.

And if Roksor really did have all of his memories and thoughts, then he was a fool to not examine them more closely. If he did, the Skrull would have known to never place Captain America in captivity, rather than just kill him. The damn alien was going to pay for his mistake and wish he never came to Earth.

* * *

I was inspired from some moments in the 'Secret Invasion' episode of Earth's Mightiest Heroes, most notably the White House scene.

Also, I researched the Skrulls, but some things aren't directly pulled from the comics. Some aspects I created for the sake of the plot.

_Also also, this story will get darker. Just a heads up. _


	2. Bronze

Tony peered through the small crack of the bathroom door.

It was pathetic, what he was doing, but the brunet tried to block those thoughts as he looked at the sleeping form in the bed. The man exhaled, incredibly thankful he was still sleeping. Tony used the bathroom in his and Steve's shared suite for well over an hour, mainly due to making slow, careful movements as to not startle the sleeping soldier. He showered with exceptionally hot water, washing every inch of his skin until it began to burn red from irritation. He opened another bottle of concealer to hide the bruises along his body he couldn't convincingly blame on his work as Ironman. He hid blossoming contusions along his neck and the black spots along the wrists. His swollen lip wasn't that noticeable after cleaning the dried blood and his cheek seemed less irritated than before.

The area between his legs was the most difficult to inspect and find comfort for. In lue of an ice-pack, Tony sat into a cool bath after the heated shower, then used an over-the-counter anesthetic on the sore spots. It stung horribly and his suspicions were confirmed when he grabbed a handheld mirror. Something had ripped down there, but the pain wasn't anything he couldn't manage. So there Tony stood, in loose baggy clothes that didn't reflect his usual tastes, with damp hair and a weary expression, as he peered into the spacious studio to find the blond still sleeping.

At least, it looked that way. He was sleeping on his side, his front faced away from him. But the steady rise and fall of his body told Tony he was dreaming. His golden locks were ruffled along the pillow, and for a moment Tony was reminded of just a month ago, when he tousled the man's bedhead hair to wake him up.

_Ge-Get off me!_

Today was the day. He waited long enough. The signs presented themselves even before last night. He had to do it. Suck up his pride, his dignity, and just tell someone. Anyone. He needed protection, or else he might do something he'd regret. And how would he explain his actions afterwards? Even with evidence, the public would still hate him for doing such a thing; even if Golden Boy Captain America wasn't so great under the media's eye right now.

He had to do it. But he had just one more obstacle to overcome. Leaving the goddamn bedroom.

Tony's thoughts immediately halted when he heard Steve's breathing change its pace. His body stirred. He's waking up, he thought with panicked eyes. No, no, I can't be like this. Tony looked through the small cracked door, and watched as the man yawned and stretched. He watched the blond turn on his back and reach out for a person that wasn't on the bed. He frowned and lifted his head, scanning the room and stopping when his blue eyes fell on the bathroom door.

Tony backed away and listened to the bed creak and the footsteps that followed. Steve walked with slow steps, torturing the billionaire with tension. Jarvis was gone from the bedroom, from the Tower. It wasn't going to help him. No one was. The footsteps stopped in front of the bathroom. His breath hitched. The door knob wiggled when he grabbed onto it.

Then, as if out of a _deus ex machina_ movie scene, an alarm blared. A red light casted through the bathroom and the suite. Tony had to cover his ears from the booming noise. He almost shrieked from nerves, but didn't want to admit he was that far down the rabbit hole.

"Tony?" He heard Steve call through the door and over the horn, and his voice sounded concerned. Ha. "Tony? There's trouble." He said and pushed the door open.

The blond stood there and regarded the brunet questionably, as if he had no idea why he looked so terrified and confused. Steve laughed. "Come on, it's time to suit up."

* * *

Besides Ironman and Captain America, Thor, Hawkeye, and Widow were the other available respondents to the scene. There were four confirmed men with specialized weapons that turned anything within a twenty-yard radius to ash. Four confirmed men in Times Square, and Natasha made the comment that there were probably more. Steve guessed terrorists given the location. Hawkeye suggested Hydra making some sort of lame attempt at sending a message. Ironman didn't say anything, but he knew it was connected to the string of robberies he had looked into recently. Thor retorted that he cared not, that he only wished these wrongdoers be detained before he slaughtered them.

Hawkeye was the first to arrive to the scene, and stationed himself on a high roof to scan the crowds and give locations to his teammates. Natasha dealt with the hordes of people directly, shouting at them to evacuate while Ironman took down two suspicious persons on a rooftop overlooking the square. Captain American and Thor faced off against the two other fiends in the middle of the main street, and both heroes realized these men possessed more than just dangerous mini-bombs. They also had superb fighting skills, both long-range and up close.

But it wasn't anything the team could not handle.

Within a record time of eighteen minutes, they apprehended every member of the criminal gang at the popular tourist destination. And they did it with few casualties. Bystanders and the press surrounded the superhero team behind police tape and benches almost immediate after, shouting questions or compliments and asking for photos.

They ignored the bunches of people, and instead focused on getting transportation out of the huge mess. But as Natasha pressed her comm for Coulson, shrieks in the crowd made her stop and turn around. Captain Rogers was speaking with two police officers when the assailant lunged out of the mass of people, and he aimed in her leader's direction. It wasn't that the attacker was too fast or strong for the rest of the team to just stare at the two men ruffling on the ground. It was the fact the assailant tackling the Captain…_was_ the Captain, or, at least, looked identical to him.

Both men wore the same Star Spangled costume, had the same shield, the same grunts of exertion as they fought and wrestled on the street. The team shockingly watched the Steves as they tumbled along the concrete with wide or confused eyes. The fight was going nowhere; the doubles were equal in their abilities.

"Am I seeing double?" Hawkeye's stunned voice echoed through everyone's comms.

Eventually Ironman stepped forward, hand raised with a repulsor charging. "_What the fuck is going on_?" He roared over the commotion. The two soldiers continued to send punches and kicks to each other, each spitting their fair share of blood and collecting sweat along their brow. They muttered guttural noises to one another, but it wasn't anything Stark could make out. He shot a burst of energy at each of the Captain's legs, and that finally made them both pause.

But the unmasked Steve took advantage of the other's sudden intermission from the fight and placed him in a headlock. The other blond wheezed for air and the crowd surrounding the heroes went wild for or against such a brutal act. Camera flashes nearly blinded the team.

"Stop what you're doing now!" Ironman shouted once more, stepping closer. "Let Rogers go and step away from him!" This wasn't a matter of who to shoot. Ironman knew who was who; this wasn't some horrible "which one?" trope. This was a matter of a bizarre clone or copy of the Captain trying to kill the original. And this fucker was going to die for it, even if Tony wanted to personally kill the real Steve himself just two hours ago.

"Tony," the man grunted and tightened his hold on the thrashing replica below him, "This is an impostor! I'm Captain America! _I'm Steve_!"

He paused for just a moment, just maybe…? But shook the thought away. "Fuck that." His repulsor charged again, "Let Rogers go!"

"Ironman, everyone! Listen to me! _I'm the real Steve_!" His voice was frantic as he looked to the dazed teammates behind the armored man.

"Tony, what the fuck is going on?" Natasha shouted over the roar of the people and the billionaire shook his head to clear the haze. Via his HUD, he could see JARVIS actively scanning both Captain America's, but it wasn't able to come up with any conclusive results.

"I have no idea," He replied confused, breathless. "It's telling me that they're _both_ Steve."

The soldier who looked more tattered and worn clutched the double's neck even tighter until his head literally turned purple and blue. Tony faltered, grateful for the mask because his eyes were threatening to spill tears, "No, stop!"

"I'll show you!" Steve-2 bellowed and, with a snap of his wrist, knocked the other unconscious. The original Captain's skin suddenly turned green inside the suit. The public gasped, screamed at the pointed ears and the transformation of a muscular Captain who had just rescued them into a meek man with oddly colored skin.

The Avengers tried to mask their surprise and confusion, but Tony never had a good poker face. Panting, the other Steve Rogers, the apparent real Steve Rogers, dropped the alien on the road and rested his hands on his thighs. "See?" he breathed, "I'm- I'm the real one."

The team was speechless, not quite sure what just happened. But Ironman, being the closest to the odd pair, was the first to make a move when the winded Captain, the real Captain, was in danger of falling on his face. The blow to his legs earlier must have wounded him worse than Tony thought, in addition to the fact the man looked like he just ran a hundred marathons. The billionaire helped him stand and watched Steve's face closely as he took in ragged breathes. He looked like Steve. Sounded and acted like him. So what made that…alien on the ground? Not Steve Rogers? Not the man he loved? Did that make him…did that make him a stranger Tony had shared a bed with? Shared meals and kisses and it did those things to him-

Tony threw his headpiece off and vomit fell onto his boots.

* * *

He slumped along the white table.

The adamantium handcuffs dug into his wrists and were heavier than he liked to admit, so Steve rested them against the surface. He was exhausted anyway. Not so much in the physical sense, but mentally. There was a tall glass of water on the table, but the blond didn't touch it. After the third glass, Steve wasn't thirsty nor willing to watch Coulson walk outside the interrogation room and fill the cup back up from a water cooler. His legs ached from Ironman's shot even after the meds looked at it, but he didn't say anything. It was refreshing to feel a constant throb of pain; he deserved it for letting Tony down. God, Tony. He needed to see him. Make sure he was okay.

"Are you still with me, Captain?"

He sighed. "Yeah. Are we done yet?" They gave him a change of lounge clothes, but the fact Steve was trapped at SHIELD's temporary headquarters didn't lighten his mood. He didn't break out of that alien base just to be confined someplace else, with itchy handcuffs. Roksor was still alive somewhere, locked behind some cell. He may still be wearing his face. Maybe he was in a room just like this, convincing someone else he was Steve Rogers.

"Not quite, we-"

"I've taken every test, Coulson." Steve glared. "I passed every assessment. I answered every question. I've been cut off from people long enough." The image of Ironman holding up the repulsor jumped in his mind. Tony had really believed him to be a fraud. "Let me out of this room. I was trapped in a box for two weeks, and I'm not going to be caged here too. I can break out of these," he held up the cuffs and dropped them back down with a loud bang, "if I try hard enough."

The middle-aged man looked at him with sympathetic eyes and his tone was soft. "I'm asking you to wait just a little longer, Steve. Once my team finds the building you gave the coordinates to and can validate your descriptions, I can officially confirm your story to the superiors." He took a seat across from the soldier. "You have to understand this is a huge development. If it wasn't for Thor's proof of an alien race referred to as Skrulls, or the photos taken in Times Square, we would've put you where we put the other Steve."

The man wrinkled his nose, repulsed. "Don't call him that."

"Sorry. We'd put you where we put _Roksor_." There was a pause. "Steve, everyone knows you're the real deal. Roksor is in one of our sublevel containment cells with constant monitoring. And the media is in a frenzy for the green-skinned Captain America, so even the public knows something is off. There are already strong beliefs that wasn't really you at the White House last week. Cleaning this mess up won't be difficult."

The White House speech. Dates with Tony. Holding his hand. Steve had exposed the Skrull in the middle of New York City after the impostor fought alongside his teammates. Rogers didn't know how many times the alien had saved the day before that. Or knew what else, exactly, the asshole did under his identity. His only clues came from that newspaper the Skrull had showed him. Tony vomiting upon the realization didn't calm his fears either. He may have been held prisoner under the aliens, but he wasn't tricked by one using Tony's appearance. The brunet may have unknowingly given the impostor secret codes or classified information that could be detrimental to SHIELD, the team, or even the world. Recognizing that Tony's own boyfriend really wasn't him for two weeks was probably doing horrible things to the genius's head.

"Can you tell me what I missed? Everything the Skrull did when he impersonated me?"

Coulson took a glance at his notepad before answering, and Steve didn't want to acknowledge the man had to recall just how long he was held prisoner.

* * *

Tony sat cross-legged on the carpet and his upper body leaned against the foot of the bare bed.

The sheets were tossed in a dumpster a few hours prior, along with various articles of Steve's attire he wore the last few weeks and some of his own. He couldn't even look in the general direction of the walk-in closet. No, he'd deal with that mess later. The billionaire wanted no reminders of the previous fourteen days. Because that's how long it had apparently been. Tony hacked into SHIELD's surveillance cameras. He watched Coulson interrogating then questioning the real Steve Rogers. He listened to his boyfriend explain how the mission failed, how he was captured, how he was taunted by guards wearing his friend's faces. Were Steve and him still together? Would Steve still love him if he knew-

He felt his heart jump. His breath quickened and he pressed two fingers to the pulse point on his neck to calm down. His body trembled, although it wasn't from any physical injuries. The brunet dated a fucking alien for two weeks without the thought that anything was wrong. Or, well, without the thought that Steve was an impostor. Tony remember suspecting demonic possession or drugs, but not aliens. He wanted to recoil into himself. He mistook a damn green-colored goblin as the righteous Steve Rogers. Feeling guilty was an understatement. It was beyond embarrassing, even without the consideration of his credentials. He spent time with that thing. Kissed him in front of others. They had been…intimate-. Steve-The Skrull, he had- he-

_Breathe, damnit._

Was it cheating if the man embodied his boyfriend? He cheated on Steve…and the thought of Rogers being impersonated for half a month while the real him never came back from that assignment with Sam, Natasha, and Hill. He never came back. Instead, he was held as a hostage in some goddamn chamber. While Tony ate gourmet pastas and drank top-quality wine with the impostor, the real Steve picked at drug-riddled rations that tasted like shit. While he slept in their bed, Steve found it hard to close his eyes on the cell floor as his captors watched. While the impostor spread his legs, while he tried to love the phony no matter how he treated him-, the real Steve was taunted by Skrulls taking on the appearance of his team.

Tony's body jolted from the detached sensation of the world around him, as though his mind was burning out, and he suddenly brought himself back into his surroundings and felt his pulse once more. Anxiety attacks were all in ones head. They were purely psychological. He had to get over this.

A few sharp knocks echoed in the suite and interrupted his thoughts.

"Tony?"

He tried to calm his breathing and placed his hands along his thighs. The voice was Pepper's and he really didn't want to deal with the woman right now. He didn't want to deal with anyone. They were probably laughing at him for not knowing, thinking this was just a classic case of the 'bed trick'. That Tony was dealing with the fact he consensually slept with a man who wasn't Steve (because being forced by Steve was too bizarre, surely, his friends would say. Why would Tony be stupid enough to think the real Steve could do such a thing?).

And even if they weren't laughing, sympathetic looks would be just as worse.

God fucking damnit. He had met aliens, fought alongside gods and was dating a man born in 1918. How the fuck could he not have run into a time machine by now? Maybe he should start drafting blueprints.

"Tony," the voice drawled behind his door, "you haven't said a word since Times Square. Happy said you haven't left your room in a while either. Can you give me a sign you're at least alive?"

The man looked away, ignoring the voice. He hoped, fruitlessly, that she'd just leave him alone to cope.

"JARVIS, check his vitals." It was the fake Steve who requested that the computer disabled whenever the blond was present in a room. That included their bedroom and the gym. Occasionally, even the lounge or control rooms. Tony thought nothing of it. A man from the 40's who didn't trust technology and wanted his privacy? It was unheard of to think Boy Scout Steve would abuse the secrecy anyway. At most, Tony joked that he would miss watching the Captain try to carry full-out conversations with JARVIS, including asking the system "Some weather, huh?"

But the moment they returned to the Tower after Times Square, Stark wordlessly changed JARVIS's programming back to its original setting.

"_Miss, Mr. Stark is experiencing similar symptoms of his condition regarding the wormhole incident._" The computerized voice flooded into his room as well as the hallway.

_Panic Attacks_? No, he wasn't that distressed. Was he?

"And where is he?"

"_Sitting on the floor, Miss Potts. I have overridden the lock on the grounds of a health concern_."

_Gee, thanks JARVIS. Note to self, never assume Igor will stay loyal to its master._ The man turned his head to watch the impeccably dressed CEO walk inside and stop until she was standing directly in front of him.

"Tony, are you alright?"

He scowled. Ever since their neutral split, Pepper made it a point to check on him often, although it stopped when word got around that Steve and him became a couple. The woman knew Rogers was a better voice of reason against Tony's shenanigans than herself and decided that he didn't need her watchful eye, but Tony was always convinced Pepper was just put-off by the fact he played for the same team now. She denied his theory with an over-exaggerated eye roll each time.

"I didn't give you the go-ahead to enter."

Pepper sighed and crouched to be on his eye-level. "Tony, this is just as much as my building as it is yours." She teased. "Now, come on. I'm taking you to Banner. Your pain management solutions are always so terrible. "

"Pep, I do not have a pain management problem, I have a pain problem. And I'm meditating, so, you know, leave. You're messing up my chakra." He wretched his arm away from her grip.

"At least your stubbornness is still in tack, so you can't be _that_ rattled. Come on, even Superman asks Batman for help sometimes."

* * *

Bruce entered the large lounge, his eyes immediately drawn to the two persons by the bar on his left. Pepper bit her bottom lip, walking away from the brunet and met the scientist halfway.

"This was as far as I could get him. He began to raid the fridge and pour himself drinks. Jarvis?" She spoke louder to the ceiling, "What's the count?"

"_This is his second glass, Miss Potts._"

Tony shot a glare in their direction, but continued to sip his drink. Bruce frowned.

"Well, maybe if he's drunk, he'll be honest. Clint mentioned he seemed off even before the alien revealed itself."

They parted ways, the CEO obviously too flustered with the man to stay any longer. Bruce cautiously walked over to the other male, examining his tousled hair and slumped shoulders. "Tony? Why are you drinking at two in the afternoon?"

"Because I want to. Because I can." He answered him immediately, gaze flicking up.

"Pepper tells me you haven't eaten anything since yesterday morning. Suddenly drinking, uh," he scrutinized the label, "_Captain Morgan_ isn't that healthy."

Tony frowned from his friend's statement, or maybe from the name of the liquor, Bruce wasn't sure, and set down his glass. "You're right. I lost my appetite anyway."

Bruce witnessed behavior like this before. It was very controlled, almost robotic looking. The man was numb, in shock or in some sort of denial at what happened. Bruce doubted it was the fact Captain America was a prisoner for two weeks, but instead the fact that Tony was in a relationship with a Skrull during the time. He was having trouble expressing himself; he didn't want to feel like a victim.

Pepper chose him because he was close to the billionaire. But Bruce wasn't this kind of doctor. He must have told Tony, among others, that over a million times, and now he was going against his own words. He took a deep breath. He'd at least try.

"Tony, it's not your fault." He looked at him with a blank face. Bruce continued. "You couldn't have known. You need to understand that. You will hurt yourself if you don't."

He wordlessly placed the glass in the sink and bottle back in the fridge. "I should have known, Bruce." But the moment those words left Tony's mouth, conflicting thoughts popped in his head. The Skrull was identical to Steve; it really, really was. Could he blame herself? Really? The phony had that damn chip on his bottom tooth, just like Steve. It was such an insignificant detail. Steve was decked by a street light of all things a few months ago and-

_Maybe you don't want this…but I do, Tony._

_Ge-get off me!_

-Steve didn't want to get it fixed. His tooth. He said it made his body feel more human with the imperfection.

"You've got to stop beating yourself up over this." Bruce replied, "You know Steve. He's not going to blame you."

The man walked away without a second glance.

* * *

Natasha was next, apparently, only a few hours later. Tony noticed the Russian carried a plate as she walked into his workshop and directly towards him. The billionaire suppressed his grumbles and continued to work on his monitors.

"Brought you lunch," she greeted.

"Thanks. Not hungry though."

The woman placed it on the table near by before taking a seat. "What are you working on?"

"Reconfiguring the shell metals for Mark XI. "

Natasha looked genuinely surprised he gave an answer. "Oh?"

"Want to ensure a better power-to-weight ratio when I'm above 30,000 meters. Among other things."

The woman watched Tony work for a few minutes, noting a piece of what looked to be hair in a slide under a microscope. Only one monitor of the seven actually pertained to shell metals. Natasha acted as if she didn't notice. Especially the minimized window of the live footage of the captive-Skrull in a cell.

"Tony, you haven't changed your clothes since Times Square."

His body faced away from her, but the redhead watched as his hands stopped working. "Huh. Didn't even notice."

"Tony, you walk with a limp when you think no one is watching. Look at me." She spoke in a deeper octave, a deadly one used for missions.

The man turned around, impatience etched across his face. "So what?"

"Talk to me," She insisted, "You'll feel better if you actually talk about this. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"You, you, you," he sighed, and gathered his things. He left the dinner plate untouched. "This shouldn't be about me. This should be about Steve. Steve was the hostage living in shit conditions. Steve was the one left behind on your mission with him."

Natasha didn't take the bait. She pressed on. "I don't think you're angry about that." She paused, then spoke softer. "Did he rape you, Tony? Did he force himself on you? And because you thought it was Steve, you let him?"

"Oh my god," Tony laughed as he walked away. He stopped when he reached the door, and turned to look at the woman still sitting along his work space. "I'm upset that I didn't figure it out, Nat. That I didn't see that it really wasn't him. Not everything is so horribly dark."

The brunet walked through the door, biting his tongue as he made sure his walk was limp-free.

* * *

"My friend, everyone is worried for your health."

"Oh, Thor. Not you too."

The man adjusted his still-warm laptop nestled against his underarm. He was only twelve steps away from his suites door. It wasn't the best place to relax anymore; some of the most prominent memories with the Skrull were there, but it was the one place he was ensured his privacy when Pepper was gone. Hell, the last few days confirmed the suite was secluded.

"Your temperament is the same," the demi-god continued, "But you do not eat or sleep."

"I'm fine. I've managed three days straight without sleeping once. This is nothing." As an afterthought, the man gave a smile. "I appreciate your concern though, big guy."

A comforting hand gripped his shoulder and Tony tried to hide a wince. _Ouch_. "We are more than just a team. We care about you and we want to help. We are trying to help. Director Coulson has given his word that Steve will be released soon. I do not think he will find comfort knowing you are doing this to yourself."

Tony looked to the side, suddenly reminded of his mother brooding at their kitchen table when he was young. He always got it, understood his father was busy. There was a company to run, things to always do. But his mother had a difficult time adjusting. She rarely ate, although she pretended to when giving Tony his dinner. Was he turning into her? Drinking was one thing, but punishing himself by starvation was something else entirely. Although, his father was probably never replaced by an alien. He pursed his lips at the thought.

"Okay. Okay, well, thank you, Thor. I'm just- I was on my way to grab a snack before you stopped me."

The man gave a boastful smile. "Good. But can I trust you will eat a proper meal?"

He nodded.

"If I hear you have misled me, do not think I will hesitate to feed you myself." The God of Thunder jested.

* * *

Like last night, Tony couldn't sleep. It wasn't the fact that he slept on the icy tiles of the bathroom floor or the fact that he had just taken a long, hot shower. He was frightened of his thoughts. His dreams. The night prior, the billionaire had three dry-heaving episodes after dreaming about all that transpired the last few weeks. The panic attacks came back even when he closed his eyes. It was uncomfortable on the floor, but he didn't think he could handle laying in that bed again.

And he wasn't sure how Steve would react to that. Assuming the man would even want to share a bed with him again. He watched the surveillance tapes of the captive Skrull religiously, waiting for the moment it would reveal its plan and what it did as the Captain. Tony made sure Jarvis would alert him if the alien began to talk as he laid on the floor. It was only a matter of time and with Tony having no way of having his own little one-on-one time with the fucker…

He was mad with SHIELD, or what was left of them. Mad at himself more. But probably furious at the fucking alien most. It took his relationship with Steve away from him. It took away his trust and turned him into a shell. Tony wanted to kill the thing that wore Captain America's face and he couldn't get anywhere near the bastard because of that fact. The damn goblin used everyone to get what it wanted. SHIELD. Information. But him…? Did the alien only- did it only do those things with-at him….to keep up appearances? To make sure it maintained its disguise? Well, it certainly abused it. If Skrulls could really absorb memories, then the impostor would have known the Captain could be gone for weeks without physically seeing Tony. He could have never touched him and Tony would never have been suspicious as long as 'Steve' kept up with his affections through texts or phone calls.

His boyfriend was leaving SHIELD's holding blocks soon. His real boyfriend. The man that kissed him before he left on assignment with his teammates. Tony tried to burn that memory into his head, because that was the last real time he saw Steve. God, he loved him. He still loved him. He couldn't wait to see him again. To make sure he was okay. But would the man want to see him? Knowing what he did? Would he be okay seeing him? In his mind, would Tony be able to separate the fake-Steve and the real one?

Tony got up from the cold floor. He had to get over this teen angst.

* * *

Captain America was isolated from the rest of the Avengers, and from the rest of the world, for two days, going on three. In addition to confirming he was 100% Steven Grant Rogers, Coulson wanted to make sure the report was as detailed and as extensive as it could be. The abilities of these new species of alien were mind-boggling. And disturbing. Shape-shifters who could change into anything at all? The containment cell for the captured Skrull was adjusted to combat its capabilities and more guards were put on watch-duty to ensure no mistakes. If so much as a _fly_ got into that cell…

The head agent gave Steve a very proficient overview of happenings while he was captured, but being the new director of the agency, Coulson only focused on the assignments the alien had gone on, and the information it gained after it bypassed standard protocol using Steve's authority. But the blond didn't care about all that. He cared about his friends, assuming they still were his friends. He had no idea if Roksor fucked up his relationships. He certainly couldn't tell in the chaos of New York the other day. But most importantly, he cared about Tony. He missed the way the man tried to hide a smile when Steve would try to make him laugh. He missed his strong hugs, the way he raked his fingers through his hair before kissing him.

He sat alone in a holding cell, but the conditions were much better than the last two weeks. He had a comfortable bed with a few pillows. He had a shower, a toilet, a change of clothes. He never thought he'd be so grateful as to have a clock and some artificial light he could turn off and on at his convenience. Coulson saw to it that he got whatever he wanted; and even though the Captain had only asked for a deck of cards and "some real food", the man practically showered him with luxuries, as if to apologize for the bureaucratic isolation.

Steve sat along his cot when it was midnight, wide awake. He tried to play solitaire, but the bed awkwardly curved from his weight and the cards kept sliding down. When the soldier tried to place a Queen in the correct spot, he heard the thick door squeak open.

He never imagined it would have been Tony standing there.

* * *

Author Note: This is turning out a tad longer than I thought. Probably going to be around 5 or 6 chapters total. Also also, this story will get a _tad darker_. Warnings will be used beforehand. Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Heroic

But there he was, just as he remembered seeing him last.

He looked disheveled from a recent patrol, beaten up from one, wearing the black undersuit he wore beneath his armor and tattered sneakers. The only things he brought to protect himself from the chilly temperature outside was a long trench coat, hat, and a scarf. Honestly, Steve had never seen the man so bundled up before.

Tony stared as well, his hand still clutching onto the door's handle just in case he realized this was all a mistake. But Steve looked so hopeful, so surprised to see him standing there. His eyes weren't soulless like he grew accustomed to. They were the ones he fell in love with. It only reinforced Tony's guilt.

There was a strange tension, until Tony finally uttered his name. "….Steve?"

"It's me, Tony." He slowly stood, slightly discouraged to think Tony was still untrusting, a little on edge still. But it was expected. And Steve didn't want him to ever doubt his authenticity again. "You can see live footage of the Skrull locked up. Down the hallway-"

"No, I- I know it's really you." He took a few hesitant steps forward before hurrying towards the man to greet him with a hug. He wasn't ready to admit the Skrulls video feed was minimized on his tablet for the last 48 hours. "I'm sorry," he said against Steve's neck and felt his bottom lip tremble when the blond wrapped his own arms around him. He continued to knelt his head down to nuzzle Tony's hair and neck. Steve was too good for him.

"I'm sorry," Tony repeated. "I should have realized it wasn't you. I should have realized the moment that _thing_ arrived. Especially after-" he paused, "-that fucking god-awful address it made in D.C. Are you okay?" he pulled back from the soldier to dodge his out stretched hand that had reached to cup Tony's cheek, and stared at his chest. "Did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine. I'm okay." Steve tried to control himself, making sure his hands stayed gentle and soft as they caressed the other male's sides. He missed this so much. The gasoline smell of his hair. The expensive fabrics of his clothes, the rough patches of his mechanic hands. He didn't care how the billionaire bypassed SHIELD's security. Knowing the brunet, he probably gave one look that promised a swift death and everyone backed away. That, or a wad of money. "They didn't hurt me. The whole time, I was just worried about what was happening here."

Tony sighed. "No one suspected anything. That thing- it made everyone believe it was you. I was- I'm sorry." He struggled with his words, which was a first. That was never a problem with any Stark. Tony pressed himself against the taller man. "God, I missed you. I'm sorry-"

"Tony," Steve interrupted and soothed his hair. "Stop apologizing. I'm fine." He pulled a smile. "I've been captured before. Interrogated. Tortured. Even chained on walls. The amenities were less than ideal, and I got lonely, but that was _it_. I don't blame anyone for what happened. I get it. I understand. If I was on the other end, I wouldn't have suspected a thing either."

He was silent for a minute, but Steve didn't want to say anything more until he spoke.

"Do you blame yourself? Because…you know, you shouldn't."

The soldier exhaled, still holding onto the billionaire. "I do. I can't help it. I led the mission and I made a mistake. I'm glad I was the one they captured and not my team, but now I realized I'm not the one who paid the price for my mistake."

Once again, Tony pulled away. "What do you mean?"

"You flinched, Tony. You _flinched_ when I tried to touch you."

The other male shook his head, denying the accusation. "It startled me, I-"

"You haven't been sleeping, have you? Or eating. You look pale." Maybe Steve sounded a little upset, a little angry. But the thought of that alien conditioning Tony to be afraid of him? He couldn't help but appear a little mad. "I was honest with you. I told you I wasn't hurt. Now I'm asking you the same thing. I want you to tell me what that Skrull did to you with my face."

Tony pursed his lips. "Since when did this become about me?"

Steve made a show of using his index finger to tilt his head up. "You can't even look at me." He whispered. "This entire time, you've been looking everywhere but at my face."

His face tightened, his eyes a bit frantic. "I just- it's not everyday your boyfriend gets replaced with an alien. I feel…guilty. For not knowing. I can't get over that guilt. I'm _smart_, Steve. Not sure if you knew, but I'm kinda known for my ingenious ways of thinking. My ego is based off that fact. Yeah, I'm aware these aliens make a living out of shape-shifting, but I feel like shit. I wouldn't be lying if I said I wasn't terrified of something like this happening again." He rubbed his face, feeling defeated. "Fuck, I'm a horrible boyfriend. Why didn't you take, like, literally _everyone's_ advice before trying this relationship thing?"

Holding onto Tony, Steve sat them both down on the foot of the cot and held him close. "Hey, not sure if _you_ knew, but I'm kinda in love with you, Tony." They sat like that for a few minutes; Tony's head laying against Steve's shoulder with closed eyes as the soldier hugged and softly rubbed his back. Steve hoped he wasn't making the situation worse by touching him. "Everything is fine now. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. And for the record, not _everyone_ was against me dating you." There was a pause. "But it was close."

"Heh. Maybe…we should have a secret word. So we always know who's who." He gave a weak laugh. It was a nice idea. And both wished it was that simple.

"The Skrull doesn't have my most recent memories. I can tell you how I got back to New York."

Tony gave the blond a questionable look, telling him with his eyes that he'd rather not be reminded of that. But Steve smiled. "It involves a skateboard."

"Yeah, okay." Tony rolled his eyes, but then considered the suggestion. "Maybe I'd like to hear you talk for a while."

"Before I do though…I need to know. Please. I can handle it. I just need to know."

Tony looked at him under a careful gaze as a million thoughts raced through his head. Just tell him. Tell him and watch him still love you. He'll still love you. _No, no he won't. _

He shrugged. "There's nothing to know. For the first three days, you- um, he- _it_ ignored me. I confronted it, because, you know, I like attention." Tony scoffed from the memory, "And I guess it realized it had a cover to keep." Steve's hand clutched his knee, but he was unaware his grip tightening as Tony continued. "Everything was PG-13. Grateful for it now, obviously, but when I thought it was you…ah, I thought you didn't, err, adore me anymore."

Steve faltered, frowning. "Oh_, Tony_…"

"Yeah and you might have to talk to Sharon."

"Sharon? Agent 13 Sharon?" His brow furrowed. The woman had a crush on the Captain for a number of years, ever since she was stationed as his neighbor down in Washington D.C. Steve knew about it, word got around, but he never thought anything of it. She was a good SHIELD-turned-CIA agent after the Hydra mess. And he still occasionally worked with her when he needed something from the government agency. The woman even took her business to the Avengers Tower at times, although the rumor was she just wanted to meet up with the Captain.

Steve didn't like where this was headed.

"Yeah. Carter. She's under the impression you finally returned her feelings. Although I'm sure with the media having a field day with the impostor-Cap, the girl is smart enough to figure out what happened."

"Should I ask what, _exactly_, I have to apologize for?" Steve mumbled, rubbing his face, embarrassed and already dreading the repair work he was going to have to deal with. Better enjoy the games of solitaire while he could.

"Probably not," Tony frowned, adsorbing Rogers reaction. _If he's distraught from this__**…**_ "And it kinda reinforced my idea of us not working out anymore. You- _It_ didn't, uh,…pay attention to me. It….wasn't that affectionate."

"Tony, know that I will never stop loving you." Steve took him in for another embrace and stroked his back. "I never stopped loving you. When I was a prisoner, I just kept thinking of you. I escaped with the hope of holding you like this again." Laughter bubbled from Tony's throat and he returned the hug. God, he missed the Captain's old fashioned romance. "I understand if you're uneasy or uncomfortable around me," he whispered gently, "I'm just a little ticked the damn thing touched you. Almost ruined what we had."

Tony was thankful he was pressed against Steve's chest, because he just couldn't find the spirit to smile. Steve came back to him unharmed, but it was only for two days he even realized his boyfriend being _harmed _was a possibility. At least, not by his own hands. He had a few skeletons in the closet that would never see the light of day, and he was going to make sure it stayed that way. The Skrull wasn't going to talk, and probably never would. A few team members noticed he was distraught earlier, but it was easy to play it off as a simple case of "I should have known!", because, hey, that was half the problem he faced. The other was something he wasn't going to admit to Natasha, let alone _Steve. _That would bring up a field day of other problems.

No. Everything was fine now. Tony just had to pretend the last two weeks never existed. Had to forget he came close to murdering his own boyfriend. To forget he almost succumbed to one of _those relationships_.

"I love you, Steve," he said.

"I love you too, Tony." He kissed his forehead, then smiled when a memory surfaced. "You know, when you threw up in Times Square, I fell flat on my face. My legs couldn't hold me up."

Tony raised a brow. "I just realized I slept in the same bed with an alien. I think I'll always have you beat."

"Yeah…" He looked sheepish; his effort to lighten the mood failed horribly. "Well, speaking of sleeping, you need to get some. Don't think I forgot."

At that, a genuine smile danced across his face and his gaze flickered to the suddenly enticing cot. "I missed your lectures. Come on, you can tell me your skateboard story in bed." He unwrapped himself from Steve and crawled further on the mattress.

He paused. "Would…would you be comfortable with that?"

"Absolutely. It's the bed at the Tower I need to burn."

"Tony…did he-"

"Ah, ah," he cut him off and shuffled under the sheets, "Let's hear that story."

* * *

They never got more than a few minutes of sleep for the reminder of the night. Steve told him everything about the mission he led; where he went wrong, and his captivity with the aliens. He told Tony things he didn't tell Coulson, since they were irrelevant for the report. He told him how he felt when the Skrulls took on the form of his friends, old and new. How he felt when they pretended to be them, pretended to be _him_. The story about him borrowing a skateboard from a group of kids on the outskirts of the city earned a few laughs from the engineer, especially when Steve seemed serious about returning the dinged up toy.

"Seriously? You couldn't find a faster means of transportation? It only takes a few minutes to hot wire a car, Steve."

"Yeah, but you forget I was along the countryside. Most tractors can't go faster than 30 miles per hour. I was trying to be efficient."

"And you couldn't find a horse to _borrow_?"

Steve playfully groaned, "No, Tony, I couldn't find a horse."

They laid along the bed, sharing a pillow. Whenever there were lulls in the conversation, one of them would drift off to a short nap as the other watched, admiring the peaceful features and trying to engrave the image in their head. The holding room was warm, and the billionaire kept his winter gear on in response to the low-quality sheets.

Steve asked about the Skrull impersonating him, focusing on what it did and said to Tony. He told him as much as he could without feeling ashamed or embarrassed. And the soldier understood why he would withhold information; Steve never told him about the Tony-Skrull teasing him with its body or suggestive poses, just the fact it showed him the paper.

By the early morning, Steve was updated on nearly everything. How the Steve-Skrull made unauthorized visits to classified bunkers. How the alien gathered various documents, including schematics for security systems. Although Tony wasn't present for it, he told him about the fake-Steve making an ass out of Captain America during the White House press conference in regards to Washington's Hydra infiltration. In reality, the imposter shit on the concept of global security completely. Along with the Avengers.

"It's alright though. I have my PR team working on the mess. You aren't going to be held responsible for anything that happened the last two weeks."Tony repeated his last sentence in his head.

"What about the team anyway? Do any of them hate me?"

"Clint always hates you." He laughed, remembering the archer's face when he heard about Natasha being on Steve's strike team. The woman hardly had any time for their weekly sparring matches, but Tony knew it ran tad deeper than that. "But, after the White House thing_, everybody _was kinda weary. You seemed uptight. Moody. You said things that made the others a little…self-conscious."

"Self-conscious?"

"I'm sure they'll love to tell you when you return to the Tower," Tony explained. "Everybody has their examples."

"Even you?" Steve frowned, caressing the man's arm.

He grimaced. "He knew what buttons to hit, I guess. He- It…compared me to my old man a lot."

"Tony…Whatever it said to you, it's not true. I don't love you because-"

He shushed Steve, dismissing the topic. "I know. Just…at the time, hearing it from you…in your voice….I know now it was just trying to get to me."

A distinct knock came from the other end of the door, and both looked dumbly at it.

"Are you expecting company?"

"Uh, come in?" Steve sat up. It neared five in the morning.

The couple watched as Coulson entered with two cups of coffee. He stood there for a second, before giving both a smile, nod, and chipper, "Good morning." He was dressed in his usual suit and waited until Tony and Steve untangled themselves from the sheets before handing them the hot drinks.

"Last night, my men told me you had a visitor. And after coming in this morning, I was also told you two stayed up all night." From their looks, the man nodded. "My agents are good, but they also get bored. I think they were hoping for something to make the night shift worth it."

"Good to know," Steve mumbled and sipped the coffee. He made a face; it was stronger than he thought.

"You'll also be happy to hear we can release you later today. There is still some paperwork, but it shouldn't take long. Tony, you're welcome to stay if you'd like."

"Actually, I should probably get going." The male stood after giving Steve a peck on the cheek. "I'll go let everyone at the Tower know. Get some things in order."

* * *

Before discharging the Captain, Coulson warned him about staying out of the public's eye until things cleared up. Many people, politicians and agents included, were still uneasy about the entire thing.

And when he left SHIELD headquarters, Steve reluctantly called JARVIS on his way, even though Tony had said he'd tell the others. He just wanted to be extra-sure no one would be surprised from his arrival. It was disguised as a courtesy call, but he knew what he was doing. The soldier didn't think he could bear his own friends trying to subdue him, thinking the Skrull had escaped.

* * *

The reunion was heartfelt, so predictably Tony had to interject jokes every other minute. There was a large banner in the lounge that read _Welcome Back Sorry We're Assholes! _Everyone had missed him, and were worried to think Steve would be angry for never realizing they lived among an impostor. Steve laughed, revealing that _he_ was worried his team would be upset for the things the alien had done.

Natasha apologized on behalf of herself and Sam, but she couldn't even finish her admission of guilt before the soldier dismissed it and brought her in for a hug. No one could have known, he said.

Besides Bruce explaining how they were all fooled by the Skrull, not a soul wanted to mention the impostor with any more detail. Steve understood, and Tony only ended the unenthusiastic topic with, "You were on rough waters with everyone since the White House, Cap. It's just good to know that wasn't you."

Really, the reunion felt like Steve had only come back from a long trip. His friends didn't act any differently, nor did he see any hesitance in their eyes. It was with immense relief that everyone was supportive of such a bizarre situation. His friends felt bad for not noticing the fraud, and Steve couldn't blame them. However, it only really donned on the man how good the Skrull was when he visited the SHIELD containment cells.

* * *

"What a nice surprise," the Steve-Skrull smiled as it leaned against a wall. It still possessed Rogers voice as well as his appearance. "I guess the tables have turned."

The real Steve Rogers stood outside the reinforced cell lined with adamantium; something designed to hold the Hulk. He was underground, on a sublevel of SHIELD's hidden base below New York City. The corridors were bleak and they leaked, and it was hard to avoid a puddle when walking down them. The underground rooms looked abandoned and labyrinth-like, but that was just for appearances. Behind each secured room were high-tech security offices, monitoring rooms, control centers, confinement chambers. Down here was where they kept Roksor. No visitors were allowed; only authorized security and agents Coulson approved of.

But days passed since Steve's return and the Skrull reveal, and the alien kept its silence. It spoke in circles, never giving any actual information. It stayed in Captain America's form, occasionally acting like him and demanding to be let go. Sometimes, to mess around with the agents, the alien changed into a crying child or a replica of the guard. There was world SHIELD would be executing the alien soon.

Coulson didn't want Rogers down there with the thing, concerned that he may kill the Skrull before the time came or underestimate its ability to get under his skin; literally and metaphorically. But Steve had to visit the alien. It spoke to him before; maybe it would again.

"Looks that way," Steve said and he uncrossed his arms. The alien through the cell wore his face still, including his suit, and it was difficult to get over seeing one's doppelganger. It was like looking through an inverted mirror, at his evil twin. Steve didn't smile like that, with such ill intentions. The blueness of its eyes looked empty. The Steve-Skrull leaned against the wall with his ankles crossed over each other and his arms folded. The smirk exuded smugness. He looked like Steve, but it wasn't trying to _be_ him. Thank goodness.

"Did you come here with a purpose other than to stare? I know everything about you, Steven. But I didn't know you were also a narcissist."

The soldier glared. "Your plan didn't work. Your team is dead-"

"You think I don't know that? I knew they were dead the moment you escaped. We were in constant communication."

"_Your team is dead_," Steve reiterated. "And now you're here. I'd drop the act, it's pointless now. At least if you start answering questions, they might give you a pillow or something to pass the time."

"If I'm not mistaken, you said I wouldn't even make it to the Tower's lobby." The Steve-Skrull grinned, "I'm sure you realized I made it much further than that."

"You got information on SHIELD? On the Avengers? It doesn't matter. You won't be returning home. All of this was a waste of time. Just tell me your people's plan and I'll be on my way."

"My mission wasn't just gathering intelligence. I also planted seeds, Steven. Seeds that will ultimately tear your team apart. Have you noticed odd behaviors from your friends?"

"No," The Captain answered proudly. "They're stronger than you think. Whatever you may have said or done, they know it was just you trying to manipulate them."

His doppelganger pushed its body away from the wall, and with an wicked gleam in its eye, he sauntered over to the reinforced glass. Rogers realized then he'd never make a good super villain; the look just didn't suit his features.

"How is Tony doing?" The Skrull purred. "I miss him."

"He's fine. Whatever you tried to do-"

"_Whatever_ I tried?" It asked astonished. "He didn't _tell_ you?"

Steve knew the alien could be pulling his leg, just trying to anger him into doing something stupid, unless it seriously thought Tony wouldn't have had the courage to tell the Captain about his experience with the Skrull. "Steve, does that sound _fine_ to you? Your partner keeping secrets of the time he spent with _me_?"

"He told me you ignored him. That you took advantage of your disguise."

The Skrull regarded him under a careful gaze, then said his next statement slowly. "He made such delightful sounds when I entered him."

It looked as though someone had suddenly punched Steve.

"When I kissed and licked him everywhere too. That long scar just above his left nipple. The jagged one in the middle of his chest. His body is truly a work of art. And, yes, I did appreciate it."

"You're lying." Steve recovered from his shock, but his rage for the alien's tricks did not simmer. "You have my memories. As much as I _hate_ it, you know those things because I do. If you're trying to rile me up, it's not working. I'm going to kick your ass eventually, but I'm not stupid enough to disable the securit-"

The Steve-Skrull moaned. But it wasn't Steve anymore; the alien seamlessly morphed into a familiar brunet with deep brown eyes and sharp facial hair. Its hand leaned against the glass, in a mock display of pleasure, as its face contorted with passion and something Steve only saw in the midst of sex with the real billionaire.

"You see, he _whined_ like that for me." It said as Tony, smiling. "And he spread his legs like this for me."

Steve hit the metal-infused glass that carried a chilling echo. "_You're just manipulating my memories. Exploiting them_."

The now Tony-Skrull looked dismayed, almost bored. "Are you sleeping in the same bed together? Hm? Does he flinch when you touch him? And what about the closet? Does he have trouble stepping inside?"

Both Tony and him had been busy the last few days. So much so, in fact, that _no_, they hadn't been able to match up their sleeping schedules. Stark was busy with a trip to Malibu, with the media on recovery work thanks to Roksor, with upgrades to his latest suit. Apparently the engineer was developing a sort of Skrull-detection device, and when Steve had free time, he never wanted to bother the man when working. He respected Tony's need to focus…although, now that he thought about it, Tony was always conveniently busy when Steve wasn't. As for the closet? He had no idea what the damn alien was talking about. It was a little messy when he walked in the other day for fresh clothes, and Stark had mentioned he threw some the shirts out that Skrull had worn (perfectly understandable), but he never noticed the man _avoiding_ the damn room.

"We've been busy," The soldier glowered, "We don't need to sleep together every night. None of what you said means anything."

The Skrull wearing Tony's face paced his small cell. "You don't believe me. I can understand why." He looked up at Steve. "Access the surveillance tapes, Steven. The ones throughout the Tower. The ones Jarvis never deletes. You will learn that everything does, _indeed_, mean something." The foreboding gaze within the Tony-Skrull's eyes made Steve grimace. "You will also find a new level of rage, I'm sure."

Maybe Steve Rogers wouldn't make a good supervillain, but Tony Stark could definitely pull off the menacing darkness. It was so convincing that it unsettled the Captain. It wasn't the real Tony, and he _knew that_, but it was uncanny to watch his likeness tread the prison with poison-laced words.

"Make yourself comfortable." Steve retorted on his way out the door.

* * *

Days passed.

Captain America was alright in the eyes of the American public again, although there was some budding concern over the confirmation of shape shifting aliens. Coulson promised Steve he wouldn't be hounded for answers and information regarding the ordeal, and only when the fourth day passed and he still never received anything from CIA or FBI did Steve actually believe him. Even with less than one fourth of the employees SHIELD used to have, the agency even now managed to be extremely efficient and faultlessly covert.

Everything was moderately normal along the social side of things too. Steve continued his work with Sam and Natasha where he last left off, returned to his workout routine, spent time with his friends. He was still hesitant about walking down main street, and he declined going to the Police Family fund Benefit. It wasn't because the Captain came down with a sudden case of shyness; It just didn't feel right. Steve missed out on two weeks of progress against Hydra. He felt behind schedule. He also felt suspicious, almost weary of the captured alien in SHIELD's basement. His first visit to the Skrull was also his last; Steve wasn't eager to hear it speak in his own, or Tony's, voice again. Even if Coulson told him Roksor only spoke to Rogers. Steve preferred the alien be handled by the director's team, though ideally, he fancied the thing dead.

While the soldier leaped back into dangerous missions and monotonous protocol, Tony seemed to grab at any chance to escape it. Banquets, fundraisers, even company meetings. He drank a tad more than Steve was used to, and the spark between them was replaced with something more vague, far-away. He tried to talk to Tony about it, but the billionaire would change the subject or shut down. Eventually Steve would proactively search for the man to discuss the issue. But when he visited the mechanic in his shop, and asked what he was up to, Tony's response was nearly hostile.

_Steve, does that sound __**fine**__ to you?_

The final straw came when Steve had casually asked Tony to grab something from their closet. When the billionaire waved him off, when something strange flashed through his eyes, Steve found it difficult to control his disposition. He snapped at his boyfriend. He demanded to know what was going on. But Tony's fight fire-with-fire attitude was nonexistent. Instead he stared at Steve with something like horror in his eyes. It was so unexpected the Captain hesitated, faltering, and Tony took the opportunity to leave the room.

After asking Jarvis to get someone to make sure Tony was alright, Steve was in the Tower's secured operations control center within minutes. He told the few personnel there to leave and locked the doors behind them.

He understood the complexity that was the digital world within weeks of waking up in the twenty-first century, and navigating for specific files wasn't something that came with difficulty. He had level eight clearance from SHIELD and Tony's trust with Jarvis. Finding the surveillance records came with ease. It was the act of actually watching them he found effort with.

Steve needed to know the truth on what happened. He thought he knew from what Tony had told him, but it was obvious now the billionaire left details out. The Skrull changed him, as much as Steve didn't want to admit it. He thought Tony would have been strong enough to combat the Skrull's mind games, but maybe it did more harm to him compared to the others because of their relationship.

He set his reservations aside and clicked PLAY.

* * *

Author Note: BAM! I'm on a roll.


	4. Iron

**_** TWO WEEKS AGO_ ****

_"Hey Cap, it's me. Heard you got back last night, hope everything went well, etc, etc. If I don't see you soon, you better call me so we can arrange something."_

_ Are you going to be at the Tower today?_

Tony had his phone laying by his feet, but he refused to reach down and call or text the man for a third time. It's been three days since Steve returned from a mission he led, and Tony had yet to even receive a phone call from him. He understood the soldier was busy; there were always new leads on where his lost friend James Barnes was, lots of recovery work to do after the Hydra mess, and the almost weekly_protecting the world _occurrences.

But the Captain was just as thoughtful as he was dedicated to his job. He never went one day without communicating with Tony in some way. Hell, the man called him minutes before raiding a Russian base of the Ten Rings. Only Steve Rogers could balance being world's best boyfriend and one of the most respected authority figures at the same time.

Tony didn't want to think he got that wrong. He hadn't seen him in soon-to-be three full days. Maybe something happened on his last assignment; some unexpected lead or twist of events so important he had to act immediately. But Tony _didn't know_ what was going on; that was the point. Steve wasn't putting time aside to reach out to him.

Tony only had to wait a few more minutes before he heard the car door unlock and only another few seconds before the soldier stepped inside. The windows were strongly tinted, so he couldn't blame Steve's startled face. And the fact that, well, Tony promised he would never sneak up on him like this. But he wasn't acting like himself either, _so_.

"Geez, Tony," he smiled, "How long have you been here?"

Every member of the Avengers had their preferred modes of transportation. Although Rogers was fond of his motorcycles, it got rather chilly to ride one in the winter. Cars were warmer. And this car had a tracker, a standard accessory for every Avenger's vehicle for emergencies. Or, in this case, for inconsiderate boyfriends.

So the billionaire took it upon himself to track Rogers down. It wasn't hard. He could have predicted the man would be at the temporary SHIELD headquarters in New York, but he wasn't going to make a scene inside the building, and he definitely wasn't going to spend hours looking for the most patriotic car in the massive garage.

"About fifteen minutes. You have good timing, Rogers."

He frowned; the use of last names was never good. "You're mad."

"You haven't bothered to contact me. At all. I don't like to think of myself as a clingy person, Steve, but I can only go so long without hearing from you that I start thinking an assignment didn't go so hot." Really, he was being civil. With a normal couple, common worries included falling sick, maybe a car accident, getting fired. Not torture, not getting murdered and the significant other receiving the recording, or a six month's stay in the intensive care unit. But Tony tried to act like this was a normal-couple thing.

"But, as far as I can tell, you have all your limbs. You're not in a coma. So, what's been going on that has you tied up? Bad hostage situation? Orphanage about to blow up? I've handled both before, I could give you some tips."

Steve slammed his door shut. He wasn't angry with the billionaire. He was angry at himself. He was so absorbed with SHIELD lately, he nearly forgot about Tony. That wasn't good. 72 hours and already he was causing suspicion. He had to correct that and right his wrong immediately. The Captain used the archive of memories he recently acquired and pulled the ones with Tony at the front of his mind.

"I'm sorry." Steve looked down. "I don't have a good excuse. I got your voicemail and your message. I don't know why I never reached out to you. I guess…I guess I just got a little wrapped up. Kept thinking I'd be done with my leads soon. And, well, I just finished them." He gave a sympathetic smile. "Can I make it up to you?"

Tony regarded him carefully, wearing a poker face that wouldn't jeopardize the conflicting thoughts in his head. He felt foolish suddenly; anyone else would understand when a _superhero_ was busy saving lives, dealing with classified persons, rescuing hostages. Tony realized Steve had been spoiling him before. And only now, when the man was acting like a normal agent working in a dangerous field, did he yell at him for it.

Tony sighed, taking in Steve's genuine apology and remorseful appearance. He was known for changing his mind, anyway. The man placed a caring hand on his pant leg.

"I appreciate the apology. But I didn't come to guilt trip you into buying me dinner. You're tired, I can tell. Let's go home and relax. You can treat me some other time. Sound good?"

"Honestly…that sounds great."

Steve leaned over to kiss him. Tony met him halfway, and only when they interlocked did he comprehend how much he missed his kisses, his warmth, and that scent of Steve; he always called it the American fragrance. It had been _three damn days _since he contacted Tony last. A week had passed since the billionaire _saw_ him. But it felt like three years since he kissed him. Tony needed this just as much as he wanted it.

Apparently the soldier felt the same. The kiss on his end was cautious the first few seconds, experimental, as if Steve wasn't sure Tony would be so quickly to relent after his anger, but he must have felt that strong spark for desire after such a prolonged absence just as Tony did.

His shy kiss morphed into a desperate one and their hands immediately traveled over each other in the heightened intensity. It was awkward in a car and the temperature rose quickly, but it didn't deter either one. Tony felt Steve's wandering hands cup his face and he adjusted himself to face him better. Steve paused then and pulled away just a few inches to study the brunet's panting face. Tony almost growled before attacking his lips again and the Captain forgot his reservations. They touched each other, explored needy mouths with tongues. Tony took off his suit jacket, Steve had to adjust his khakis, the two moaned.

* * *

The same night, the couple shared a quick dinner with Bruce when they walked in on the doctor prepping a meal. They carried fun and light-hearted conversation as a television nearby spoke of more snow approaching. Afterwards, both ran into Thor and Jane in the hallway, and soldier set up a date to spar in the gym with the demi-god by the end of the encounter. Since the car ride, however, Tony noticed Steve seemed a tad _eager_ to get inside the suite they shared. He knew it wasn't because Steve was tired.

His thoughts were confirmed the moment the door shut behind them, when Steve pressed his lips against his with a low growl. Tony missed his passion, but he pulled back, laughing as he watched Steve waste no time unbuttoning his shirt and slipping his belt off. "Either you still feel _horribly_ guilty from earlier, or you really missed me, huh?"

He smiled at Tony as he reached over to dim the lights. "Let me show you how much I missed you." His tone was velvety, rich, filled alluring promises that made Tony's skin shiver. He could only laugh again, however, when the soldier effortlessly lifted him like a groom would his bride, and walked over to their large bed to throw him on it. His body was immediately over Tony's, kissing and licking his jaw line and his neck as his hands worked the billionaire's shirt off. Tony laid under him, arching his body into the touches with appreciating eyes. Steve caressed his chest through the undershirt before slipping it off and tossing it across the room. Tony watched Steve as he admired his body, almost like a teenager would during his first time. Like he was discovering him all over again. It was sweet, it made him smile. No one, not even past flings, had ever appreciated Tony's battered body in the way Steve did. He fondled his nipples, grasping and caressing while his mouth sucked and licked on the other.

Steve's spare hand unzipped Tony's jeans quickly, but his attention on the male's body stayed concentrated; intense. The billionaire below him only wore black briefs and socks now. But they were also discarded within minutes. His motions to expose Tony's body were almost frantic, but he touched his naked skin like one would touch a newborn baby. The soldier continued to kiss, lick his neck and chest as he worked off his own pants and boxers. Tony wrapped his arms around the back of Steve's head and his hands tussled the hair there. He kissed Steve's cheeks and forehead when he could, and grasped at his bare back when the man nibbled over sensitive areas. The entire session was extremely passionate, heated. Even in the dimmed lighting, Steve studied the curves of Tony's shape with a flushed face. Maybe it was the artist in him, and he was going to sketch another hundred doodles of Tony so he wouldn't miss him so terribly again.

Tony arched his hips into Steve's, bringing their sexes together in the ocean of sheets and he pushed his head back into the pillows with a pleased moan. Steve made a noise that sounded angry before he grinded his hips against the other male's in a rougher manner than what Tony did earlier, and continued to lick and suck and bite. The brunet had the fleeting thought of hickeys forming the next day.

Steve's eyes were hazy, dark, _heavy_ with something. Tony assumed it was lust. As they continued where they left off in the car, Tony stroked the man's length. But Steve batted his hand away with a grunt, and forcibly spread his legs wider underneath him. Oh, well, getting right to it then.

His member was swollen, pointing towards the object of his desire, at Tony, and the flushed blond placed his hands on his thighs before pushing against the entrance. He didn't enter him slowly. Steve barreled into him so abruptly Tony bit his lip to suppress a scream; he certainly wasn't ready for that, hadn't anticipated that huge jolt of pain to shoot up his spine. The man was always considerate of their preparedness, bearing in mind he was a _super soldier_. Steve normally tried to be careful of his strength with the first few strokes, knowing his was bigger than most men.

His lip split, but he didn't say anything. Really, Tony wasn't sure he could. His fists tangled themselves in the comforter to find ground against the powerful thrusts. It was a tiny silver lining, but the smaller man tried to focus on the small pulsing pleasure under the pain that overrode his senses. He opened his eyes, and looked at that dominant body towering over him, those muscles working and sweat sheen along Steve's brow as his eyes bore into his own- oh god, he _was _the ideal human specimen.

Tony moaned, louder this time, not sure if it was from the ache or satisfaction or both. Shivers and a vibrant blush swept across his body.

"You have many…." Steve pinched his nipples, "sensitive spots on your body."

"Ah, haa…" Tony couldn't form words. Between the pain and the pleasure, his mind was too busy tolerating the conflicting sensations. Did Steve not realize what he was doing?

"Aside from here….there's also this spot," The blond licked the ring of his ear, his thrusts still brutal.

"I am- kind of…yeah, _sensitive_!" He grunted when one particular motion was too much for him and he tried to back away from the frantic rhythm. "Y-you need to s-stop…"

Steve didn't.

Instead he only shushed the soft pleas and patted Tony's leg as if to say _you're doing great_. His almost vicious thrusts didn't waver and Tony could only watch through half-lidded eyes as Steve's own were completely shut, his mouth gapping from the sensations he was enveloped in. Water pricked the corners of his eyes. The pain was quickly becoming unbearable; it felt like his body was slowly splitting into two. This was similar to their first time, actually, when Steve was over-eager and forgot about his strength. He felt so horrible and stopped before Tony could even vocalize the flinch that appeared on his face. But this wasn't their first time, and Tony _told_ him to stop.

"St-Ste…" The soldier disregarded his plea with a heavy kiss this time. He was getting close to a climax and Tony clung to his back in a death grip, trying to endure the ride just a little while longer as he struggled to breathe through his nose.

"Fuck…" Steve interrupted the kiss to let out a pleasured exhale. He slowly eased inside the other male. Tony winced. The semen stung, and that meant something tore. There was probably bleeding.

They both stayed in a tight embrace on the bed for a few minutes to even their breathing; one taking pleasure in a glorious afterglow while the other waiting for the pain to dull.

"Enjoy yourself?" Tony grimaced as his boyfriend slipped out of him and relaxed against the pillows on his side.

Steve blinked, really looking _at_ the billionaire for the first time since they entered the suite. "You were crying. Oh- oh my god, I hurt you," Ah_, there it is_. The man sat up, suddenly not lethargic, and inspected the other male's sweat-clad body. "Oh, Jesus Christ, Tony." There was some blood. "I'll go get some towels. Don't move."

The man watched, silently, as Steve jumped off the bed and dashed to the bathroom on the other side of the room. It was always mesmerizing to watch Steve move about naked, but Tony watched for different reasons now. He tried to understand what made Steve ignore his protests. He only 'lost himself' once before, during their first time (because, honestly, who could control themselves when they had Tony in their bed?), but he remembered how considerate and slow the man was after his moment, how worried he was that he hurt him. It wasn't as though Steve had to control or limit himself; Tony told him plenty of times he just needed a good warm up before he could break the headboard or move the bed with his driving thrusts. Tony never wanted him to hold back, but Steve never wanted to hurt him. And he never did; no matter how 'in the moment' he was.

Tony looked down at himself, slowly moving his hips to gauge the pain. There was a confirmed tenderness. Spots of blood and semen stained the sheets. Steve didn't even use a condom or lubrication. The Captain didn't carry or acquire infections because of the serum, but he always insisted on being safe anyway. But maybe Tony was just as at fault as the soldier in that aspect though; he could have suggested they grabbed something before he allowed Steve to toss him on the bed. He felt bite marks along his neck and from the soreness he knew hickeys were blossoming there. Also odd; Steve liked to keep their sex life private. Physical evidence of their actions behind closed doors made the man uncomfortable; especially when their teammates were in the same room. Suggestive quips were always guaranteed, followed by vulgar gestures or snickers.

All of this spiraled in Tony's mind, in addition to the knowledge that the foreplay was immensely quick and, well, the Captain always seemed to focus on _Tony's_ pleasure before concentrating on his own. The thought he had from the car sprang forth once again; was he just accustomed to a spoiled relationship? Maybe he was being selfish. The Captain hadn't seen him in a while. He was so exceptionally busy he never called him. He was stressed. Maybe all of it built up into this.

Steve came rushing back onto the mattress with a lukewarm towel, still naked, and cleaned Tony with a pained expression. "I'm sorry," he said again, then gave the smaller man a weary smile. "I guess I was a little overwhelmed. You're so beautiful, Tony." He patted his leg.

"It's all good. It hurt a little, but I'm not a _dame_, Steve." He dismissed his apology, "Now, come here, I haven't been the big spoon in a week."

His blue eyes twinkled and he crawled up beside Tony before pulling the sheets over them both. He didn't inquire if he wanted his turn at satisfaction. Instead, Steve shifted on the mattress until he was comfortable. "I hope you weren't _any kind_ of spoon in a week."

* * *

The next incident was the morning after.

"Ah…Steve…haa….wai-, wait a minute-" Tony tried to reach for his cell phone along the nightstand, naked, as he tried to sit up. His phone was almost constantly buzzing from text messages. He knew it wasn't life-or-death importance, or else the person would be _calling _or asking Jarvis to interrupt, but the person trying to contact him at this hour had to mean _something. _

Tony's attempts at sitting straight were futile with Steve playing between his legs. With a playful smirk, the soldier asked, "Wait? Why?" He flicked the tip of his member and Tony shuttered. He smiled. "This doesn't seem like it wants to wait."

"haa…no, heh…"

He grabbed Tony's naked thigh and licked upwards until he reached Tony's sex, his eyes never leaving his. The man was in the middle of returning the favor from last night, and the billionaire couldn't complain. There was something unbelievably sexy about a sleep-groggy Steve Rogers with a rough voice.

"What do you want me to do to you?" He breathed as he kept his legs apart, but Tony still tried to sit up. It would take only a few _seconds_ to know why his phone kept buzzing.

"How-how-about you- let-mee…" Steve dived back down and licked the insides of his thighs before placing his tongue over the head. "Oh…_oh_…," he flushed.

"If it feels good, tell me," The man continued to watch Tony's reactions, absorbing and admiring them. The brunet really did have the most beautiful responses.

"…I…want to…"

"You want to cum?"

He nodded.

"Tony…" he leaned down to his member again, with less pauses. He moved his hands up and down his thighs, feeling the goosebumps there. His lips closed around the tip and sucked as his tongue moved in lazy circles, lapping any precome. He stopped his teases eventually; this wasn't play time anymore. Tony moaned and his toes curled. His hands moved up and above his head in ecstasy as Steve attacked with more energy.

A few seconds passed as Tony's muscles tensed and the room was filled with soft whimpers and Steve cleaning up the afterglow with his mouth. Eventually he sat up, panting with a wetness that wasn't saliva along his face and chin. "Did it feel good?" He looked down at the aftermath he was responsible for. Tony's dilated pupils were nearly black, his flushed face exhausted, his sweat soaked pale skin. The man looked dazed with pleasure, a pleasure that was all his doing.

Tony nodded weakly to his question, still breathing fast, and Steve leaned down to kiss his forehead, like he always did after a nice surprise like this. They laid together on the bed, bodies tangled. It only took a few minutes before Tony attempted to sit up (and do it successfully) and reach for his phone. His lips pursed at the tiny screen; irritation within him rose.

Steve didn't seem to notice. With Tony's back exposed, the man placed kisses along his spine until he reached his bruised neck from last night. He licked over the black spots, and nibbled where the skin was pale. His hands wrapped around Tony as he got closer. But the brunet stopped reading the texts when he felt an erection press into his lower back.

"Er," he turned around to face the soldier, "As much as I love you and this time we have and what not, is it okay that we don't, uh…"

The soldier ran his hands up and down Tony's chest from behind, and he couldn't help but scowl when Tony pushed his hands away and suddenly sprung from his embrace. The other male walked to his dresser and ran his hands through his hair in an effort to sooth out any tangles. Cologne was next, and a few other hygiene products before he ventured off to grab a suit. The entire time, including his return to the edge of the bed to change, he wasn't aware of his boyfriend staring strangely at him. Steve's gaze was unreadable, unsettling. If Tony would have turned around to face him, he may have ran out of the room.

"I forgot about today. There's some huge presentation for some Kevlar foam. Supposed to be revolutionary. I have to be there." He adjusted his tie, "Technically, I had to be there twenty minutes ago."

"Who would schedule something like that on a _Sunday morning_?"

"People who can't read a calendar?" Tony lifted himself off the bed and walked back into the walk-in closet. "It sucks, I know, and normally I'd just ditch the entire thing. But I've been ditching a lot of things lately. So," he shrugged, "I have to prove to the world I'm alive somehow."

Back in the studio, Steve didn't move from the bed. Instead, his unnerving gaze locked to the closet's entrance. "Just yesterday, you were upset we haven't been spending time together." His tone was light, but the hard, scrutinizing look along his face portrayed a very different emotion.

"I…know," Tony slipped on his second shoe, sensing something odd. He glanced at the doorway, but the bed was out of sight. "You can come with, if you want." Tony heard him sigh and the bed squeak; he was probably annoyed and flopped into the pillows. He had to suppress a smile at the thought. It wasn't everyday Steve showed his clingy side. It was incredibly endearing.

"How about you just stay here?"

As Tony studied himself in the mirror, he suddenly saw Steve in the reflection, by the entryway. Startled, he turned. The bed squeaking must have been him getting _off_ the bed, not further on it. Tony didn't quite know how to describe what he saw. Locking his gaze with Steve's, he felt as though he was in danger, as if Rogers confused him with some mugger on the streets. He was still naked, strands of his hair still going every which way. But his demeanor was anything but playful.

"Steve?" Tony took a step toward him, but his boyfriend didn't react. So he took another step, and another until he was right in front of him. "Steve? Are you….okay?" He spoke slowly, praying for something. Although he had no idea what for.

But all his jumbled thoughts left his mind as he was roughly lifted and carried to the bed like last night. But unlike last night, he was not so willing. Steve wasn't lighthearted with his actions, and the suited man shouted at him to release him immediately. This wasn't funny.

His pleas went unanswered, parallel to last night, and the soldier dumped them both on the bed while kissing him. Steve's mouth muffled the other's demands. He wasted no time and Tony shuttered when he felt his pants get pulled down and a finger bypass his briefs and enter him immediately.

"_Ste-Steve!"_ He violently thrashed his head away from the invading tongue, "_What are you doing?"_

The man above him shrugged, still working Tony down below but his face was one of pure innocence. A finger settled below Tony's chin and forced him to look in Steve's direction. "I really want to continue what we started this morning. I thought you liked it rough." He cracked a smile, and suddenly Tony felt stupid for thinking he was _in danger_ seconds ago. Maybe his erratic sleeping patterns were finally catching up to him. He didn't fight Steve when his pants slipped off completely, but he was still incredibly weirded out.

"Steve, eh, I'm tired of warning…you.."

"You don't want to?"

Oh god, Steve's puppy eyes were the worse. "It's not…that I don't want to…but…the presentation…"

"Spread your legs a bit wider," The Captain said, but before Tony could even comply, he entered him with his length and thrusted deeply.

Tony shouted. On reflex, he jolted away from the sudden intrusion, but Steve grabbed him by the waist to lift him on top. It was mind-boggling really; in his hands, Tony felt weightless, which was a strange sensation as he was used to wearing his armor when being manhandled this way.

Tony was forced to sit on top of Steve with his member inside him, and he had to grip onto his broad shoulders to relieve the pressure. With the new positioning, Steve could go deeper inside, but the other male had trouble keeping up with his bucks.

"Ah-ha….ah…please, Jesus….be…**more gentle**," he breathed. The billionaire tried to take some control back by lifting off his body, trying to lessen the pain. But Steve wouldn't let him. Whatever managed to heal last night probably reopened by now. The soldier thrusted harder and watched his dick disappear between Tony's thighs. He purposely aimed for a bundle of nerves that made Tony arched his back and give Steve a view he would never forget. His cry echoed off the walls as his eyes rolled.

"Steve…"

He continued to hit that exact spot, enjoying the sensations that Tony's muscles and moans did to his own body. Tony closed his eyes, unused to this new primitive way Steve looked at him. He hasn't been this insatiable in, well, _ever_. Did something happen the last few days he missed out on? He had always said he liked it rough, but why would Steve just randomly oblige, and go above his expectations, without any kind of notice or playful innuendo beforehand? Maybe this was just stress catching up with him. Maybe Tony did something different with his hair. Maybe he thought he was giving Tony the brutality he always wanted as a way to make up for the last three days.

The billionaire bit his lip and stole a glance at the man below him. Strong hands that weren't his own moved his hips. The soldier's mouth snarled, teeth bared. Tony closed his eyes as he finished.

* * *

The odd trend continued for the next few days. Steve always gave his charming compliments and uniquely Steve-affections, and they never stopped in the slightest. The dinner date at _The Grand_ Steve took him on was romantic and fun and they laughed plenty of times. But Tony undeniably noticed Steve's newfound desire with sex, as though some sort of pent up sexual frustration finally gave way. It was flattering that the man had a hard time keeping his hands off him, and an even harder time to control his passion. The usual sex two to three times a week (when work permitted) was the norm. But lately? They had relations at least once a _day._

Their most recent session was yesterday, when Tony suggested they try a different position other than missionary or cowboy. Really, he had hoped for something that wouldn't cause a horrible ache between his legs or cause him to remind the man of his forceful tendencies. But when Steve shoved his face into a tuff of pillows and took him roughly anyway, Tony realized that maybe doggy style wasn't that good of an idea on his end. His muffled requests for something gentle went unanswered as he struggled to breathe against fabric.

Tony began to sense a darkness in Steve he hadn't before.

* * *

"The crimes are happening in the same exact manner as these did thirty years ago…"

The male sat in front of a few monitors, browsing through New York's archive of newspapers from the early 1980's. There was a stream of seemingly unrelated robberies happening throughout the city, where unknown individuals were stealing specific items. Items stolen, or attempted to be stolen, about thirty-one years ago. Whatever almost happened then was definitely happening now. The question Tony wanted answered, especially after the crooks had stolen something from his own research department, was _why_ and _who_ and just _what _was being built. Basically everything.

For hours he was in the lab, occasionally jotting down insights or talking to himself to clear any tangled thoughts. The laboratory in the Tower was a quiet sanctuary, a place Tony could go undisturbed for days. Lots of agents preferred their own computers or laptops nowadays and worked from their offices or homes. Bruce used the place most often, and that was saying something considering he spent most of his time secluded in his suite when he wasn't busy.

But if Tony was being honest with himself, the room gave him a good reason to ignore Steve's recent zealousness. The Captain always respected his work and never distracted him. But on those occasions he _did_ find Tony, Steve always insisted he just liked watching him work.

Whatever floats your patriotic boat, he said.

"The locations aren't the same here…but the business went under in 1994.…" Tony's eyes darted from the tall screens to his crowded notepad. The unused stool behind him squeaked when he pushed it out of his way. "_Here_." He pointed at a specific location on a monitor. "Whoever they are, they're making some sort of bomb. I'll have to check through SHIELD's database for anything similar to the odd concentration of thermobartic explosives….knowing Fury he probably has more secrets he's trying to hide…"

"Tony…" The billionaire suddenly felt arms wrap themselves around his chest. A body leaned against the back of his body.

"What's up? Think I'm onto something?"

Steve rested his head against the shorter man's shoulder and looked at Tony's oblivious reflection through a screen. He massaged his arms. "I…" He paused, "want you."

Tony took the pen that was in his mouth and flung it on the desk, frowning. "Steve, you're getting kinda ridiculous. I'm working here. What about these robberies?"

"What about them?" He sighed, "It's not a substantial threat. Let the police handle it."

"Yeah," he rolled his eyes, "And what _would_ you like me to handle?"

Steve visibly soured from the response and pulled his arms away from him. "Sometimes I can't believe you're related to Howard. He wasn't as snarky. Or disapproving."

Tony shifted his gaze to his scribbles, downcast, unable to look at Steve anymore because, _ouch, okay._ That was a low blow. Steve never brought up his father like that. Certainly not in that context. It wasn't exactly…_insulting_, but it didn't sit right with him either.

He felt a mouth nuzzle against his neck. "But I love you so much, sweetheart…"

"Steve?"

Standing behind Tony, the man moved his hands to caress his thighs and stomach through the expensive fabric. He unbuttoned and pulled down the shirt's collar that covered his hickey-riddled neck to lick and nibble the skin. Tony stayed still, frozen. He didn't expect Steve to find him for the sole purpose of sex, but if he did consider the possibility, surely the man would have had the patience until they went somewhere more private?

"_Steve._" He repeated, but with more vigor. One of Steve's hands traveled past his chest and abdomen suddenly, stopping to cup the still-tender space between his legs. _Oh Jesus_-

Desperate to escape, not fond of where this was going _at all_, Tony leaped out of Rogers grip and stumbled back into a set of desks near by. "_Hey_, hey, I'm not so comfortable with your forwardness right now. Anyone could walk in." He tried to smile to ease any tension, but it came across as nervous and strained. "We shouldn't mess around in here."

"Mess around?" The soldier straightened.

He didn't realize his body tried backing itself up again until a pencil holder fell off the desks. This was silly; this was Steve, Captain America, his dotting boyfriend who cared about him and lectured him on eating his veggies and getting enough sleep. Was he seriously scared right now?

"Steve…I don't want to do this. Not now."

He watched, silent with worry, as the other male began to rummage through near-by desk drawers. He didn't look angry…more like distraught. He saw that expression on him before. He wore it when he was about to lecture a villain as though he or she should know better than to go down the wrong path. Or maybe he saw it when Barton's dog peed on the couch. But either way, Tony wasn't a villain for saying _no_ or a lost puppy in trouble. Maybe if he wasn't so terrified, Tony would have realized who seemed more like the villain in this situation. Especially when he noticed the soldier pick out a large roll of duct tape.

"Maybe you don't want this…" Steve walked towards him and began to unravel the tape with a strange smile. He looked at Tony, watching as the billionaire pressed himself against the desk more. Tony wasn't making a move to _actually leave_, but it was obvious he was nervous. Steve stopped when he was in front of him, towering with his height.

"…But I do, Tony."

* * *

Author Note: Thanks for the responses so far :)

Hawkeye does have a dog, and he likes pizza.


	5. Iron Part 2

A few warnings:Rape, Bondage, Consent Issues, Mild Violence

* * *

The other male gave a nervous chuckle before patting the tape away. "Don't care, Cap." His tone was calm, however his eyes were anything but. "I'm telling you no."

"Oh?" Steve grabbed the hand that kept trying to push the tape away. "And what makes you think you have a say in this?" He tightened his grip, as though warning him.

Tony knew Rogers was a good three, four inches taller than him. He also knew the man's combined strength rivaled that of twenty average men. But he never actually considered the Captain would abuse this advantage over the billionaire. Tony shook his hand free with more force than needed and smacked the unraveled tape from Steve's other hand. As an added measure, he kicked the duct tape with an over exaggerated motion.

"This tough guy routine isn't working anymore, Steve. Stop it."

Steve's lips tightened, watching the tape roll under a desk. "You said you _liked_ this kind of-"

"I _don't care_!" He snapped and stepped away from his cornered position, "Since when am I expected to do this anytime _you_ want, Steve? Give me time to repair from last time!" He managed to get to the doorway without the soldier stopping him, so before he disappeared, not caring if his notes were left behind, Tony looked at Rogers with a vacant expression.

"I'm getting a lot of bruises, Steve. Ones I can't explain when someone asks. Not sure you knew. Or cared."

* * *

Tony Stark loved Steve Rogers. He loved Captain America as much as the Captain loved Ironman. Their differences in personalities only made them more compatible. Stronger. Steve loved his futuristic outlook of the world while Tony appreciated old-fashioned fun. They were in the same line of work, shared similar experiences of loss and hardships. But really, there was always that _spark_ of something that really captivated them both. A particular spark that made them impatient to see each other again. That made them give an impossibly wide smile when their phone buzzed or their bedroom door slid open.

Tony liked to believe that spark was untainted and unadulterated love. The kind of pure affection people have during the honeymoon phase, the kind that his mother and fairytales called true. Steve was always adamant he felt the same way, that they shared a bond so deep and perfect, he knew it was fate that he found Tony after the Arctic. That maybe it was all pre-ordained.

All that sounded like _pure_ shit now.

The brighter the picture, the darker the negative. That was the old saying. Tony never thought it would ever apply to Captain America though. He was a good man; that was the underlying summary of his _entire_ origin story. He doesn't have a dark side, he doesn't abuse the strength that was bestowed upon him.

So, maybe he was just going through some difficulties right now. Tony had asked Sam if anything odd happened to Steve during their last assignment together, and Sam answered no; that the Captain was just upset for leading them into an ambush. And that was expected of the humble Avenger. So, what hardships could Steve be facing that 1. He wouldn't tell Tony about and 2. Would cause him to act out.

For the last few days, Tony thought it was just him. The relationship. That maybe Steve didn't feel that pulling spark for him anymore and wasn't sure what to do. That possibly Steve was trying to be extra passionate in order to light the dying flame.

But then came that horrific White House ordeal. It was _so_ bad. Steve was working with SHIELD two days ago, and was asked to make a public statement regarding the chaos that is Hydra and the recent events in Washington D.C. Instead, the man ended up condemning the idea of global security completely; indirectly saying it wasn't needed along with the Avengers. On the White House steps. In front of thousands. Tony wasn't present for the evidently shit-ass address, but he heard enough from online videos and fellow teammates to know that Steve royally fucked up.

Tony never brought the subject up to Steve (who, apparently, was hounded by Coulson afterwards) for one simple reason. He avoided him now.

Really, it was pitiable, but he didn't know any other way to handle the growing issue. Tony answered Steve's concerned voicemails with text messages and gave notable excuses; he was in Los Angeles scouting out a possible perp, he was patrolling with Rhodey, there was a huge lead with the bomb-robberies. Tony began to feel guilty about the excuses, especially when Steve seemed so genuine in his apologies. It made him rethink the entire "good man" concept, even with Steve's violent habits in the bedroom. It was goddamn _Captain America_, after all. And he was _Tony Stark_. If Steve would overlook his thousands of flaws as a human being and still love him, then he could certainly tolerate his one imperfection. Right?

_ Hell, I struggle to get through one day without messing something up._

"I thought avoiding people was Bruce's thing."

Tony snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at the dirty blond standing in front of him. He was so distracted, he never noticed the agent enter the diner. There was no excuse; despite being in New York, the old restaurant along a forgotten street corner was nearly deserted with only one waitress working. Tony glanced down at his untouched coffee as he sat in a far corner, and wondered if it was possible to fall into a cliché.

"I'm not avoiding anyone. What do you want?" He frowned when Barton took a seat across from him, but, thankfully, he dismissed the approaching waitress. At least he was just dropping by. Tony would have left if the man began to order a dozen pancakes with three sides.

"You're avoiding Steve." Clint shrugged, "He told me he hasn't seen you in three days."

"You guys best buds now or something?"

"Tony, he- you told him you were in Los Angeles the other day? What's the deal? You strike me more of a confrontational type of person. Not one who sulks in the corner."

"I'm not sulking." He took a sip of his cold coffee.

"Look, it's embarrassing, I get that." The archer sighed, hands clasped on the greasy table, "If it makes you feel better, it's only Nat and I who know too, okay? And we don't really care, we just think it's a little weird for Steve. Just go talk to him about it."

Tony almost dropped his mug. _We don't really care_? It's _embarrassing_? Oh dear god, please let this be a huge misunderstanding. Because if his teammates seriously think an abusive relationship is just _a little weird for Steve_, then something is terribly wrong.

"You don't care what Steve did to me?"

"I try to say away from relationships," Clint announced as Tony sat there, slack-jawed. "Although I like a good lay every now and then. Natasha's in the same boat. Don't like drama, or, well, in this case, love triangles." He gave Tony a quizzical look, "Just go talk to Steve or Sharon- or _both_, I don't care. Just stop doing this whole _I feel so betrayed and I'm sad_ thing. It doesn't suit you, Tony."

"Whoa, wait, wait, wait a minute. Back up, Robin Hood." Clint visibly winced from the nickname. "What about _Sharon?"_ Agent 13, the niece of Peggy Carter, occasionally interacted with the remnants of SHIELD and made visits to the Avengers Tower. Steve told Tony this, but what Steve didn't tell him was the fact the blonde agent had a huge infatuation with the Captain, even more so than Coulson.

Tony had to maintain his poker face in front of Baron. He acted pathetic enough already; he didn't want to tack on jealousy too.

"I thought you knew? Ah….I thought that's why you've been avoiding Steve."

"Just spit it out," He snapped.

"Sharon and Steve?" Clint said their names as though it would cause Tony to suddenly understand everything. "Security caught them on surveillance the other day. Oh, shit, Tony," he breathed, "I didn't want to tell you this. I thought you already knew. Fuck." There was a pause, and Tony inwardly screamed. _What happened? What the hell happened?_ "They, uh, you know. It wasn't, well, _sex_, at least, not from what I saw, but-hey!"

The billionaire was halfway down the aisle when Barton caught up to his brisk pace. He grabbed a hold of his shoulder. "Wait, Tony, come on, talk to me. What's going on between you two? Is he okay? Since Washington, he's kinda been…dickish lately. Was there a nasty break up?"

With the smile Tony gave Clint, he should have traded in his Apogee award for an Oscar. "No, Clint, everything's fine. Or, well, everything will be soon."

* * *

Steve was _cheating_ on him now? Just because he decided to avoid the bastard for being a bastard? Petty revenge wasn't his style, and it _certainly_ didn't come in the shape of Sharon Carter. _Enough is enough_, Tony thought as he stood outside his and Steve's shared suite. The same suite he steered clear of for the last four nights. He knew the man was behind the door after asking Jarvis in the elevator. The male typed in the access code then grabbed the handle.

Steve sat on the sofa closest to the large window. He had a laptop resting on the accent table opposite of him, and before he noticed Tony standing in the doorway, a look of intense concentration was painted on his face.

"Where've you been, Tony?" He closed the laptop and stood to face him. "I know it wasn't Los Angeles."

"I think that lie is a lot less innocent than yours."

"What lie?" The blonds' carefree attitude only enraged Tony even further. Glaring, he marched to the center of the room and still left a good few yards between them.

"Our relationship," His voice hitched. "What's going _on_ with you, Steve? The team says you've been…"-_dickish_\- "…moody. And that shit address you made the other day?"

Again, the male shrugged. "What about it?"

_ What about it?_ He stared at him agape. "_Steve_. You don't seem to care about me anymore."

"That's not true." Oh, _now_ he's suddenly serious. He began to take steps toward him, but Tony turned and headed for their shared closet. Steve followed.

"You tried forcing me into sex and when I denied you, you went and fucked around. Tell me it's _not true_ you don't love me. Have you just never properly broken up with someone before? Don't know how to do it? Because I can show you." Tony shoved the closet door open and aggressively threw Steve's collared shirts and button-downs on the carpet. The man watched, frowning when Tony also tossed his various styles of the Captain America suit. A crumpled piece of paper slipped out of one of the uniforms, and in his frenzy, Tony picked it up and pursed his lips.

It was a crumpled photo of him and Steve, goofing around in a photo booth. He remembered that night. They stayed an entire weekend along a private beach last summer, but spent most of their time at the boardwalk. Steve was mesmerized by the fact they hardly changed since the 1930's, but when he realized Tony began to tally how many times he said, "These are _still_ around?", he made a point to do everything he used to back when he was a kid in spite of the billionaire's banter. And that included eating funnel cakes and taking ridiculous pictures.

Steve apparently took the photo with him on assignments.

Tony tore the photo into pieces without hesitating and continued to clean out the closet. "You can put all your shit at Sharon's place. Sure she won't mind."

The soldier walked inside, bypassing the clothing piles.

"You know what's pathetic, Steve? That after all the shit you've been doing…all of _everything_…I think I still love you. But that should change once you leave."

The man placed a hand on Tony's shoulder, his back was turned to him, as though to calm the billionaire down. He didn't. Instead, the physical contact seemed to rattle Tony even more.

"Let _go of me_, you dick. _Don't you dar-"_

Steve forced the other male's body to face his and kissed him. Tony growled and thrashed his head away from the assaulting mouth, trying to step away from the soldier. But he was quicker. Steve grabbed the back of his head swiftly and pulled it forward, making the billionaire's lips collide with his.

Tony continued to struggle, but Steve backed him against a shelf of shoes and pressed his body as close as it could get against Tony's. He shoved a thigh between his legs and his hands made sure Tony's arms were pinned to his sides. Maybe his grip was too tight, because Tony grunted, though Steve liked to think it was from the kiss instead.

"_What the fuck has gotten into you?"_ Tony breathed, wide-eyed, when he finally managed to pull away. Was he possessed? Did Loki steal the Chitauri Scepter and brainwash Rogers? Was Steve unknowingly exposed to some sort of chemical or drug? He looked into his eyes and saw the same blue irises, only filled with that strange emptiness he'd grown accustomed to lately.

When he looked up at him, it sparked something within Steve, because Tony saw something intense flash in those eyes before he pushed him off against the back wall and threw him to the ground. Tony knew the man was strong; they sparred plenty of times in the gym. But now he realized the damn soldier had always been holding back during their sessions. He landed into the pile of clothes, shoulder first, and his head slammed against the floor.

"Jarvis?" He croaked, then he repeated the computer's name louder. This was bad. He dealt with bruises from the man before, but not actual violence. What did Steve tell him years ago, when they were first getting to know each other? That he was chosen for the serum because he was a good man. Because he was weak, so he knew the value of strength and would use it with compassion. Tony tried to get up but his head felt like it split into pieces. _Compassion, yeah. _

"He's not here." The blond looked down at him, standing over his head. "Remember?" He leaned down and gripped Tony by his jacket and yanked so he'd sit up.

"You've fucking lost it," Tony shook his head, gripping the man's hand when it reached his throat. Steve straddled his legs among the discarded shirts and uniforms and crawled on top of the smaller male to make sure he couldn't properly move. He reached down, aiming for his mouth once more, but Tony used his arms to pull Steve down, above his shoulder, and trap his leg before attempting to swing him on his side.

The Captain was strong, and he didn't slam into the ground like the average person would, but it was enough for Tony to roll his body in the opposite direction and stand on his knees. Tony did so just in time to block the swing of Steve's fist and deliver one of his own. He dodged the hit too and lunged for Tony in the closet. They fought like they did on the wrestling ring in the gym, but this wasn't a routine match. Steve's eyes were dark, unreadable, while Tony's own just struggled to understand what was happening. He didn't want to seriously harm someone he loved, but Steve certainly wasn't acting like the humble Captain he once knew.

When Tony slipped on one of Steve's damn sketchbooks in the midst of their scrap, the soldier was able to finally land a solid blow to his jaw while his own lip bled from a punch Tony threw seconds earlier. Tony hit a rack of clothing behind him and tumbled to the ground with various hangers with him. The man grunted, landing on a mix of his shoes and Steve's, and the air was knocked out of his lungs.

It was different, fighting for a serious cause without the suit. He felt lighter, quicker on his feet, but _damn_, when he got hit…his suit never gave him the luxury of experiencing a full super-soldier blow to the jaw.

Tony laid on his back in the middle of the clutter, his short breath caused his vision to see black spots everywhere. Steve took advantage of his slowed reaction to get back up and perched back on top of him, once again straddling his legs but also pinning his hands. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

Tony struggled under the immense weight, his limbs bound to his sides or pressed into the shirts under him. "Ge-get _off me_!" He roared before Steve pressed a bruising kiss on his lips. It was muffled, but the male thrashed and shouted, emitting a stifled _No!_ into Steve's bloody mouth.

Tony bit his lip before pulling away, regarding him with his own cheeks slightly flushed from the brawl. "You don't get to say no, Tony," he breathed, "Not like last time." Steve held Tony's wrists in a bone-crushing grip and moved them above his head. One hand was big enough to hold down both as he grabbed near-by suspender straps. The brunet fought back with even more vigor, knowing what the Captain was about to do. But it was useless against Steve's strength. He flipped the billionaire on his side and manhandled his body until he successfully tied his arms together behind his back. He ignored Tony's numerous curses and verbal protests, and flipped him once again on his back. Steve didn't have worry about his lethal hands now.

"It doesn't have to be like this," Steve frowned, watching with his legs still clamped against Tony's thighs as he continued to thrash around, "It can be like before. Just give in, _sweetheart_." The once endearing petname was sinister to Tony's ears now. He wasn't his sweetheart anymore, just as Steve wasn't his Captain.

"No, no, _no_, Steve, you're- you're not like this. Fucking stop!" He tried to scoot away, but with his legs trapped and the awkward positioning with shoes underneath him, it was difficult. Tony bared his teeth as Steve's hands ran across his chest and drifted down until they reached under to touch his skin. He was selfish, not affectionate, feeling Tony's body as though it was just a toy for him. "You don't have to fucking _do this_!"

A deafening white noise rang in his ears. It took Tony a moment to realize, as he found himself unexpectedly staring at the closet's doorway, that Steve _smacked_ him. His right cheek stung and his eyes threatened to water. As his hearing slowly came back, the words, "_You don't have a choice_," hissed in his ear. The flesh throbbed, but the pain didn't quite compare to what happened inside his chest.

At that moment, something within Tony broke.

The Captain lifted his torso off Tony and began to unzip and yank his jeans down trapped legs. Although the smaller male didn't struggle against his advancements, Tony made his task of undressing him difficult. With legs pressed together and heels digging into the floor, Steve had to manhandle Tony's limbs like he was a stubborn toddler. Next came his briefs. In the past, his loving boyfriend would get to this part and slowly ease his undergarments down, either playfully with a stupid grin or with his own teeth. He'd do it painstakingly slow, basking in what was to come, as Tony would ruffle his hair or roll his eyes and tell him _to get a move on_, _grandpa_.

This wasn't anything like that. Steve shoved the fabric down, looking at his body with an undeniable coldness that made Tony look elsewhere. He couldn't watch anymore and tried to distance himself from what was happening.

But his thoughts stopped when he felt a dry finger press against him, brutally pushing inside. He screamed and his panic bounced off the walls while he clenched every muscle in his body, trying so desperately to barricade the man out.

How could this be happening in his own home? While people were walking just outside the studio's door? Tony could only disable Jarvis's absence manually, and no one had access to any suites in the Tower except their own, or if they knew the keycode beside the door. The fact that everything was soundproof only added to his frustrations. Tony was stuck here, trapped in the damn closet as Steve towered over him and did the unthinkable.

The soldier smiled and curled his finger deeper inside, forcing the passageway open against the tight muscles. He shouted again, but reluctantly relaxed so some of the pain would cease. Steve stroked his sweat-matted hair with his free hand, a mocking affectionate gesture of something he used to do in less horrifying situations. Tony's own hands were growing numb under his back, and the awkward positioning was almost as excruciating as Steve's ministrations. He retracted his patting and continued to roughly finger the man below him as he unbelted and pushed his own pants down. Steve positioned himself at the abused opening before withdrawing his finger.

"Look at me, Tony," Steve calmly said, "Look at me."

After a few seconds, he did. The punch to Tony's face earlier caused blood to run down his nose and it dried along his face. His lip was also split, like Steve's, from their earlier brawl. The billionaire was breathing erratically and lifted his head as best he could. It was unnerving to look at Steve with his disheveled pants at his knees, the terrifying intensity behind those eyes. It was like a confirmation that this _really was_ happening, that it really was Steve Rogers.

"This is going to hurt."

Tony felt tears finally prick the corners of his eyes. "Steve, why-"

He pushed himself into him, spreading his thighs wider, and his sudden gasp of pleasure was overshadowed by Tony's pain-filled scream.

His actions only continued for the next few minutes. He rocked in and out of Tony at a wicked pace as the other male loudly protested and tried, feebly, to get away. Steve's hands took rotations gripping his hips forcefully, pinching his nipples to life, and cupping his face so he could muffle the screams with his mouth. He licked the blood and tear trails from his cheeks and continued his ruthlessness as Tony jerked from his touches and shook his head. Steve's moans soon competed with his cries. He buried himself as deep inside him as he could before finally enjoying his much awaited climax. Tony's screams simmered into whimpers as the warm liquid stung his torn insides and he found that he could finally, properly, breathe because the man stopped his constant thrusts. Steve collapsed on top of him after, winded, with his length still between his legs.

They stayed like that for minutes. Tony gazed vacantly at the closet door, trying to numb himself against the pain he felt everywhere. His mind refused to process what happened. Instead, his eyes focused on a fixed point and stared as the body above him caught its breath.

Steve slowly lifted himself off the brunet and watched as he grunted when his soft member slipped out of him. Tony felt some sort of liquid follow, but was too weak to care if it was semen or blood. Really, it was most likely a mix of both. Tony continued to just lay there as the man lifted him so he could unbind his arms.

"You were great," he complimented and tossed the straps to the side.

"Why?" His voice was hoarse, but he persisted. He needed to know.

Steve stood and kicked his khakis fully off of him. He acted as though he just came back from a workout, and wiped the sweat that formed along his brow. "I wanted you."

"You raped me. I could have just…let you."

"You would've let me rape you?"

"Consensual sex, Steve."

He squatted down beside Tony, and smiled when he visibly flinched away from him and stumbled over more shoes. He reached out for the billionaire and succeeded grabbing a hold of him because his body was so sore. Steve pressed his body against his and he cradled Tony, shushing his whimpers.

"I just wanted the physical side of it."

Tony froze in disbelief and the soldier lifted him effortlessly in his arms and he carried him out of the closet. "You're not a good man," he whispered as he placed Tony on the bed and crawled after him. His flimsy struggles allowed Steve to press his front against Tony's back. He then turned off the lights before wrapping his arms around his waist in a tight embrace. Tony's body trembled and Steve nuzzled against his abused neck, inwardly pleased that the brunet probably wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

"Do you love me?" He asked.

"_I did_."

"You still do," Steve said immediately. "I know you do." He gave a light chuckle, like they were carrying cute pillow talk. "Put up with my bedroom tendencies. Everything else will remain the same, okay, sweetheart?" He squeezed him tighter. Tony struggled to breath through his mouth as his nose was clogged with blood and his chest constricted. The threat was obvious. Terrifying.

"_Yeah_." He spoke softly, ashamed at himself as a few tears fell, but thankful he was faced away from the monster. Tony stayed awake all night, his nerves still standing on edge as the man's arms stayed draped around him. He didn't remember falling asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Tony peered through the small crack of the bathroom door. It was pathetic, what he was doing, but he tried to block those thoughts as he looked at the sleeping form in the bed.

The male exhaled, incredibly thankful Steve _was_ still sleeping. Tony used the bathroom for well over an hour, mainly due to making slow, careful movements as to not startle the sleeping soldier. Earlier, turning the faucet on was the most nerve-wracking moment he had ever experienced since Afghanistan. But luckily the other male never woke up from the rushing water.

He had showered with exceptionally hot water. The bathroom filled with steam within seconds. In the dense haze, Tony forcefully scrubbed and washed his body until it began to burn red from irritation. He rubbed at the blossoming bruises the hardest, in frustration and dismay, especially at the ones forming along his wrists.

He used cosmetics to hide the marks on his body he couldn't convincingly blame on his tinkering or as Ironman. The contusions along his neck were the most difficult to cover. His swollen lip wasn't that noticeable after cleaning the dried blood, and his cheek seemed less irritated than before. There was a small gash, but it would scab up within hours and look like a simple blowtorch mishap that involved too many flying sparks.

The area between his legs was the largest challenge to inspect and find comfort for. In lue of an ice-pack, Tony sat down in a cool bath after the heated shower, then used an over-the-counter anesthetic on the designated sore area. It stung horribly and his suspicions were confirmed when he grabbed a handheld mirror. Something had ripped down there, but the pain wasn't anything he couldn't manage. He'd just have to remember to put extra effort into walking straight.

So there Tony stood, in loose baggy clothes that didn't flatter his body, with damp hair that sagged close to his eyes, and a weary expression, as he peered into the studio to find Steve still sleeping.

At least, it looked that way. He was sleeping on his side, his front faced away from Tony. But the steady rise and fall of his body told him he was dreaming. His golden locks were ruffled along the pillow, and for a moment he was reminded of just a month ago, when he tousled his bedhead hair to wake him up.

_ Ge-Get off me!_

Steve had implied something last night that terrified him. That didn't make any sense. Tony knew he needed protection; he certainly couldn't walk around in his armor on all day and night. He needed protection and needed to get Steve isolated. Because if he wasn't going to make it out of their suite, make it out of those doors, Tony knew what he would be ready to do. The screwdriver he had slipped into his sweatpants pocket confirmed that.

He had to tell someone, assuming that they'd even believe him. But there was just one more obstacle to overcome. _Leaving the goddamn bedroom_.

But his thoughts immediately halted when he heard Steve's breathing change its rhythm. His body stirred. _He's waking up_, he thought, panicking. _No, no, I can't be like this_. Tony looked through the small cracked door, and helplessly watched as the man yawned and stretched. He watched as Steve turned on his back and reached out for a person that wasn't on the bed. He frowned and lifted his head, scanning the room and stopping when his eyes fell on the bathroom door.

Tony backed away and listened to the bed creak and the footsteps that followed. Steve walked slow, and he knew it was to just torture him with tension. Jarvis was gone from his bedroom, from the Tower. He wasn't going to help him. No one was.

He grasped at the tool by his hip, ready to pull it out.

The footsteps stopped in front of the bathroom. Tony's breath hitched, eyes wide in fear. The door knob wiggled when Steve grabbed onto it.

Then, as if out of a _deus ex machina _movie scene, an alarm suddenly blared. A red light casted through the bathroom and the suite. Tony had to cover his ears from the booming noise. He almost shrieked from his nerves, but didn't want to admit he was that far down the rabbit hole.

"Tony?" He heard Steve call through the door and over the horn, and his voice sounded _concerned_. Ha. "Tony? There's trouble." He said and pushed the door open. Steve stood there, and regarded the other male questionably, as if he had no idea why he looked so terrified and confused.

He laughed. "Come on, it's time to suit up."

* * *

Author Note: Poor Tony. Most of the last chapter is written. It's long, however, and may split into two.

Thank you for all feedback so far!


	6. Golden

*** * Present Time * ***

Steve didn't know how long he sat in front of the monitor, but when the screen turned black from disuse he had to turn away from his shocked reflection. He glanced down at his hands, and they quivered. He didn't think he could look at them, especially at his own face. Possibly never again. His stomach dropped multiple times during the last two hours as he watched the videos. The ones from the laboratory. The lounge. _Their room_. Now it was over, and he felt like he could finally breathe again.

_ Holy Shit_. He just watched Tony -_his Tony_\- be violated as a twisted version of himself touched him and held him as he struggled-

Steve lurched to his feet so fast the chair behind him spun chaotically. He knelt down along the floor, hands propping him up, but no vomit came. Instead he stayed there, retching a few times as his mind whirled.

The Skrull was a passable replica of himself…_at first_. It had his mannerisms. Some of the things it said Steve could picture saying to Tony, even with the same approach. It was good enough that Steve would be avoiding any reflections for a while, and maybe steer clear of saying specific phrases. Tony had moaned-_whined_ at first, but then that damn thing used _his face_ to humiliate and abuse and hurt and _rape_ him-

He swayed, almost diving head first into the floor. His body dry-heaved again.

_ What the fuck are you doing! Steve?_

Even when that Skrull fought him, Tony still believed it was Steve. Well, why wouldn't he? He had no reason to suspect the real him was held hostage somewhere else. Hell, it was no wonder the billionaire could only stare at the top of his head, no matter how adamant he denied that fact.

Wiping saliva away from his chin, Steve stood, wobbling, and toppled the desk with the monitor out of frustration.

"_Captain Rogers? Do you require assistance?" _Jarvis asked through the intercom.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair, his breathing rough. "No, I'm- Actually, on second thought… call…call for Pepper."

* * *

Stealth wasn't Tony's style, but he'd do anything if it got the results he wanted. Using a small EMP device he invented, the man was able to bypass SHIELD's security and steal a badge from one of the agents on duty. He already looked over the buildings schematic during his drive and knew just where he wanted to be. Tony calculated he had at least fifteen minutes before someone would realize he was there.

"Why?"

Tony marched into the containment corridor, wasting no time when he stopped in front of the badly lit cell.

"Why _what_?" His own voice echoed back. It floored the billionaire; he expected to see an evil version of Steve emerge from the shadows, not himself. He stopped watching surveillance on the Skrull ever since his reunion with Steve. He thought it was a good step in the process of leaving those two weeks behind, but he realized now he was wrong. The last five days were hell. Tony tried to bring normalcy back into his life, tried to be okay with Steve and his suspenders and looking at him in the eyes (_because those weren't soulless)_ but it was just so hard. His mind had trouble separating a damn alien and a lovable Steve. The Skrull turned the innocent things Steve had always done into horrible memories.

So now he was here, uncomfortably face to face with the alien that looked like him in a dank corridor, just trying to find closure so he could move on and love Steve like he used to. It was embarrassing enough the Skrull now knew he got to him, but he had to hide a snarl when he looked into his own face. Maybe it stayed in his shape because it thought it unnerved him, and although it did, Tony was thankful it wasn't wearing his boyfriend's skin.

"Why _what_?" Tony flared, "Why did you kiss me? Fuck me? Sleep in the same bed with me? Why _everything_? If you _really_ have Steve's memories, his mind, then you _knew_ he could have been away for weeks at a time, or too busy to spend time with me. All you had to do was give me an occasional _phone call_. I wouldn't have suspected a thing." Tony banged on the glass. "_Tell me_."

The man watched in anger as it had the audacity to _sigh_ before flopping to the ground with an audible crack of its joints. "I was Steven Grant Rogers, Tony. I was your _partner_. Why wouldn't I take advantage of that? And after the first time we…._engaged_ in intimate activity in that car," he shrugged, "I realized I enjoyed it. The passion, the sensations. It wasn't just pretend, you know. You _are_ attractive. As far as humans go. Maybe the memories that Steve possess of you helped my lust." Tony looked away but he heard his voice continue. "It's a shame though. Steve has a _very_ prominent memory of you two sharing a shower together. I would have loved taking you there as well."

"You could have broken up with me," The brunet said, his voice losing its pitch. "Or just never bothered, like those first days. You could've had any one you wanted. I-I gave you a hard time. Why _the fuck _did you keep coming back to me?"

"Like I said," the Tony-Skrull sat against the nearby wall, "Possessing Steven's head made me biased. I have all these…memories of you, Tony. Delicious ones. Maybe I do love you, in a twisted sort of way." It cackled. "It wasn't as good with anyone else."

* * *

"_Oh god_."

She found Steve sitting at one of the many desks in the operations room with an empty look in his eyes a short while ago. Although Jarvis's call was alarming, it took Pepper twenty minutes to get to the proper floor and find the soldier. Even before he spoke, his down-turned head told the woman something horrible happened.

"We cannot let this get out. Do you have any idea…." she stared at a screenshot that featured a very dominating Steve Rogers on top of a bloody Tony. If the public saw this, Captain America would be ruined. People would think the worse of him, forgetting any existence of an impostor. There'd be no way to prove this wasn't him. And Tony, he wouldn't be able to take one step outside without reporters-

"You're a symbol for this nation and this would be detrimental to Tony. To you. If this…if this got out…" She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I have to make sure all these get deleted. Completely wiped."

Steve mindlessly stared off as Pepper typed away. "Do you know," he swallowed, "where he is?"

"No," she confirmed, "He left the Tower without telling anyone. Some staff said it looked like he was late for something."

Steve frowned, recalling their last encounter. "Is he?"

"No. I checked with Jarvis."

He looked at Pepper and immediately regretted calling her earlier. Her face was solemn as she navigated through the mainframe of the system and tried to override the files Steve had showed her. Her bottom lip trembled and it was easy to tell the redhead tried to control herself. She still cared about Tony, even if their relationship never worked out, and this revelation probably devastated her as much as it did Steve.

But it was Pepper who placed a consoling hand on the haggard soldier.

"None of us had any idea. Tony is the most human out of all of us and yet, he tries to hide these…things so well." She pushed herself away from the monitor, sniffling. "You know, there was a time he thought he was dying. He was _dying_ and it took him _days_ to actually tell me. He didn't even tell me. I had to overhear it from a conversation." She scoffed from the memory.

"Are you going to be alright?"

Pepper closed her eyes. "Go find Tony."

"I will. But I need to do something else first."

* * *

Captain Rogers didn't feel very noble as he grabbed the Tony-Skrull by the neck and propelled its head into the wall, but damn did he feel satisfied. He never successfully got the image of tearing this fucker apart during his entire trip to the sublevels, as well as the image of Tony half naked and bloody.

"_I'm going to fucking kill you_," Steve threw the thrashing body across the cell then marched directly after it.

"I-I would say that's dark for you," it spat blood, "but I guess I know about all the people you've kill-"

"_Shut the fuck up_." Steve grabbed the fake Tony by his shirt and pulled him up, "You don't get to live," he seethed, "_Much less talk after what you've done_."

Coulson wasn't around. Neither was his team. And the agents on the clock didn't deter the Captain when he said he needed time alone with the captive. So Steve did not hold back from his punches, his brutality. The Skrull looked and sounded like Tony, but its ploy wasn't going to work. No, Steve was filled with too much hell-bent wrath fury to care. The Captain threw the alien against the reinforced glass then followed in pursuit. The Skrull seemed to understand he came into the cell to kill him. It wasn't going to survive.

Steve roared, beating wildly and without restraint at the thing that feebly tried to crawl away. The Tony-Skrull's hand began to morph into some strange, blunt object, but before it could use it as a weapon against Steve and surprise him or aim a blow at his head, the absolute unpredictability of the Captain's own assaults halted its plan. The adrenaline and instinct and pure fury that fired through him could not be traced, patterned, or ordered, and the alien felt monstrous pain erupting all over its body. Sickening crunches enveloped the small space, and the Skrull was painfully aware his limbs were broken.

Steve had martial arts training, combat training of almost every kind. His work within his STRIKE team only perfected and enhanced those skills. So going against some alien with super strength and speed wasn't that difficult in the small cell. If Steve wanted to, he could take out the thing in the most effective and quickest way possible. Possibly within seconds. But that wasn't his purpose. His purpose was to _punish_.

And that took time.

All the images were still fresh in his mind from the security footage, no matter how much Steve didn't want to think about them. But he worked with that rage his body trembled with.

After the alien hit the cement wall, it wobbled on its feet, trying to stand, but two broken knee caps made him topple to the ground with a snarl. Steve tackled him on the spot, slamming them both onto the hard floor. In the disoriented scuffle, he grabbed the Skrull by its fake hair and turned its face to the side so he wouldn't have to look into its fake portrayal of the billionaire.

He brought his bloody fist up, but the bruised and battered thing below him gurgled something unintelligibly before coughing. "_What_ will…s-stop s-s-someone from coming?…coming in here and having a re-repeat of Times Square? I-I could easily t-take your place….again, Captain. I c-could break Tony even more."

"This is just like Times Square, only this time I'm going to _crush your neck_."

"He's….very, urgh, mouthly….aggressive….so-so don't be too disappointed. He-he put up…a fight the l-last time. Like y-you probabl- probab- witness-."

Steve brought his fist down and dislocated the thing's jaw.

"He…he kept…" but the Skrull continued to speak through a bloody mouth, "…pleading for _you_ to-to-stop, Steven."

Steve stood and wrangled the assaulted alien up with him by the neck.

"He-he didn't…uhg…he didn't understand how you could-could do such a th-thing. But…but, oh, it was -asy to pin hi-him down and shut -im up. You-you know, I did that….that becau- you killed my team."

Steve snapped its neck with a loud _crack_ and he let the body fall aimlessly to the floor. It instantaneously changed into its green-skinned self, but the blood and bruises remained. Steve stood over it, his entire body shaking from the continued momentum of his rage, but it soon began to dissipate. The thing was dead. There was pain in its eyes before they crumbled, even if its words tried to be vicious. His blue eyes blazed with adrenaline as he stared at the butchered corpse, his breathing still rapid through his mouth and nose.

* * *

When he opened the front door, Tony was surprised to see Pepper standing there, not allowing for any space for him slip past her. And, boy, did he want to after noticing the haunted look in her eyes.

"Tony…"

He brushed past her anyway, sliding against the wall, but when he took a few steps away the woman turned around and repeated his name, more distressed. He stopped, but didn't face her. Oh god, he couldn't face her. _She knew._

"Tony, I-…Are you okay?" Pepper watched his body tense, then mumbled, "That's a stupid question, um…you…why didn't you tell anyone?" Tony always tried to hide his faults, or fully embrace them for the world to see. But this was different. She had never seen the man so shaken up. She never felt as though she walked on eggshells. But there Tony went, once again walking away from what was apparently the second wrong thing to ask.

"Tony, it's…there were video recordings." She followed him down the hallway, where the workshop was. "But they're gone, I-"

"Who else knows?" He asked.

Pepper finally exhaled a long breathe. He still didn't turn around, but words were more than what she expected. "Just me….and Steve. He was the one-_Tony_, wait, please. Talk to me. Talk to someone. _Where are you going_?"

The billionaire took hasty steps until he reached the door's entrance and opened the keypad. "You know me, Pep. I work out frustrations in the shop."

"Tony, you can't-" But the door immediately shut behind him. Pepper huffed before accessing the pad and typing in her own code.

"Jarvis, no one enters. Let Pep know I just need to work on a few things. Tell her not to worry."

"_Sir, it may be in your best interest to-_"

Tony went to his hidden stash and opened a bottle of liquor. "I know what's in my best interest, Jarv, just do it."

* * *

It wasn't difficult to find him. After his visit to SHIELD's containment cells, Rogers ignored Coulson's relentless phone calls and got in touch with Potts. The billionaire wasn't at the Tower, nor were any of his vintage and sports cars missing from the garage. Happy was though, and the limo. That left one place, really. It wasn't as though the brunet would go to a bar or some other public establishment; Tony wouldn't want people to recognize him. Nor would he suit up and brood on some rooftop or bridge suspension. That just wasn't his style.

Rogers used the spare key Tony gave him months ago and walked inside the mansion on top of Layton Hill. It was a lavish and expensive place; so much so that Steve always had to watch his step to make sure he wouldn't turn a corner and break some priceless artifact. Ever since Howard created his _city of the future_ in New York, he and Maria bought an aristocratic house at the top of an extravagant hilltop. The Stark family lived there anytime Howard had business in the bustling city, and Tony inherited the mansion when he came of age.

This was where Tony was. Pepper had said he locked himself down the hallway in his father's old workshop. Steve sighed and walked inside.

But that's when the soldier realized he had never actually been _inside_ the mansion before. Tony never remodeled it after his parent's passing. It was very….what was the word people used to describe the past? Retro? Whenever Steve felt comfortable or nostalgic, someone always ended up telling him the place purposely went for a vintage look.

It was obvious that while Tony used his money in a very flamboyant and attention-grabbing fashion, Howard liked traditional. Wide fireplaces, deep red curtains, walls lined with bookshelves. But what really caught Steve's interest were the photos as he walked along the hallways. Along various shelves and accent tables were photos of Tony through the years. There was one of him with his mother, as child-Tony laid on a floor with a book in front of him. Another picture featured him a little older, maybe around twelve or thirteen, with his now-deceased parents behind him. It was chilling how similar Tony looked like Howard.

The last picture on the counter made him blink, then nearly grab the frame for a closer look. It was a bigger family portrait, with relatives. Tony couldn't have been more than five years old as he happily sat on his mother's lap with a goofy grin. Howard sat beside his wife, hand clasped around her own, and he seemed to be in mid-laugh. Behind the seated couple were a few others. Including Peggy.

From what he researched, the woman grew to always be a close friend of Howard and his family. And there they were. Peggy smiling wide as she leaned down to playfully tickle Tony and give Howard a smirk as he gave her bunny ears.

Steve continued on his trek down the hallway. It was bizarre to see a moment in time where Peggy was living her life beyond 1945, but it was even more bizarre to see a child version of Tony when Steve himself was off frozen in the artic somewhere. They came so far, endured so much. Steve wasn't going to let this rift be it. He wasn't going to lose Tony over _this_.

The Captain turned down another hallway, the only light emitted from curtain-drawn windows, and stopped when he reached for the closed door that led to the workshop.

"_Good afternoon Captain Rogers. Unfortunately Mr. Stark has advised me to keep all doors secured. I apologize for the inconvenience."_

Well, it looks like Tony made at least one upgrade to the place. Steve tried opening the keypad panel, but it was locked behind a plate. The doors handle wouldn't budge. He tried knocking, but Tony ignored him. The soldier backed away from the door after a number of minutes, grimacing. The anger he continued to feel from the visit with the Skrull was still very much alive.

He inwardly thought the billionaire would have to make a few more upgrades as a powerful kick collided against the polished wood.

The workshop was large, almost as spacious as a gymnasium, filled with lab tables, enormous storage cabinets, welding equipment, and apparently, booze. Steve stood in the wreckage of the door, his eyes immediately drawn to the hazy-eyed male in the middle of the room. He had a half-empty bottle in his hand, some kind of injector in the other. It was obvious to see Tony was intoxicated, which made Steve think there were numerous empty bottles along the laboratory he just didn't notice yet.

He slowly approached the billionaire, weary of startling him. "_Tony_," he treaded, "What are you doing?"

As he got closer, Steve realized Tony wasn't wearing his usual workshop tank. Instead, he wore a long-sleeved shirt with his greasy jeans and worn sneakers. As Tony continued to sit along a workbench and fiddle with the strange needle, the Captain could see sweat stains along the shirt, behind his neck. Tony had been wearing long-sleeves for the last few days, he'd been wearing damn scarves and hats and gloves even if it wasn't _that_ chilly outside this October. Tony's voice rang in his head. _It wasn't….that affectionate, Steve._

_Shit, how could I have been so goddamn stupid?_

When Steve stood beside the billionaire that continued to ignore him, he wordlessly grabbed Tony's wrist.

"Hey, whoa, whoa, hey, _what are you doing_?" Tony panicked, dropping the tool with a clamor and tried to shake his hand away. It was useless in Steve's firm grip. He shoved the sleeve up and his blue eyes darkened at the faint marks, at the bruises that littered the skin. He thought back to the holding cell, when Tony kept his coat on under the cot's sheets.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Tony stopped struggling and put the beer in his other hand along the table. He blinked a few times and Steve wished he wasn't having this much-needed conversation when the man was drunk. But it couldn't wait any longer.

"I…uh…I was working on that. Preferably when the bruises subsided."

"Do-" Steve's voice cracked, "Do you need someone from med to look at you?"

"I'm _fine_," Tony wrenched his hand back, glancing at the man standing beside him before looking back down at his wrist. The faint line around it was still there. Where the Skrull had pinned his hands above his head…where Steve had just grabbed him- "Why did you always hold back?"

"What?"

"The gym. You always held back." Tony referred to their sparring matches. All those boxing sessions. Their runs. He thought he improved every week, got stronger and faster with Steve's help. The feelings of vulnerably outside the suit diminished because of it. But that was all shot to hell now. The Skrull had Steve's strength, his durability, his stamina. And he had hit Tony _so easily. _

Rogers pulled Tony's collar back and wiped at the concealer that was there. "Because I never wanted to give you _these_, Tony." His face grew stern at the fading hickeys and discolorations as Tony tried backing away, but Steve found it increasingly hard to control himself and his emotions.

The brunet managed to thrash away and stand, wobbling, with the stool he sat on wheeling away. His body trembled as he spoke. "Steve, he…he used our friends and SHIELD for information. He used our…our _teammates_ to get intel. Do you want to know…do you want to know what he used from _me_? Not security schematics. Not classified…classified access codes. Not even Jarvis. No, Steve. He just used me in a different way. Over and over and over again."

_ Tony shouted as the Skrull who wore his face pummeled into him, between his legs. He choked on his own blood as his scream was muffled by a cruel kiss. _

_ I did that…because you killed my team._

Steve shook his head. "I killed him, Tony. I snapped his neck."

The shorter male looked to the side, fully aware and not surprised that Steve could kill the alien. The Captain stood before him, without a scratch or gash. No injuries at all. Tony didn't have the desire, much less the motor skills, to say _thank you_. He wanted the thing dead, but the fact that _Steve_ wrapped his hands around it and-

"I should have done it sooner," Steve took a few steps closer, mistaking Tony's demeanor. He thought the billionaire was relived to hear the news as he watched him sigh and close his eyes. "I should have realized what happened. I didn't and…Tony, why, _why_ didn't you tell me?"

"Steve," he steadied the distance between the other by taking stumbling steps backward, "You were in some fucking hellhole for two weeks-"

"_Tony_, knock it off. This isn't about me. This is about you drinking yourself into a coma because of what happened." The soldier watched, dismayed, as his boyfriend continued to stumble backwards even though he ceased his advancements. The man looked alarmed, terrified of something. Probably the memories. He tried to control himself and spoke with a softer tone. It destroyed him to see the once lively and snarky billionaire this way. "Sweetheart…"

Tony's eye clearly twitched from the nickname. He pointed towards the door. "I think you need to leave."

"No," he shook his head, "Not yet. Not until we figure this mess out."

"What's to figure out, Steve?" Tony walked around a lab table for some sort of physical barrier between the other male and kicked aside an empty bottle he forgot about. "I thought I could get over this, I thought I could tolerate you, the _real _you, hugging me and being beside me and touching my hand, but I can't. I _can't_," He rubbed his face, knowing his eyes were bloodshot. From stress or the alcohol, he had no idea. "Everything you do isn't…isn't innocent anymore."

As to prove his point, Steve reached across the table to tilt Tony's head up, just as he did a few days ago at SHIELD, but the other male jolted and smacked the hand away. "_Nononono_, no. Don't- You can't do that anymore. Steve."

_ I also planted seeds. Seeds that will ultimately tear your team apart_._ How is Tony? I miss him. He kept pleading for __**you**__ to stop, Steven._

The taller male rumbled, glancing at his hands before tightening them into fists. "_I'm not some alien_, Tony!" He bellowed, slamming against the table. "You were taken advantage of by something that made you believe was me. And you're…what? Embarrassed? Ashamed? You feel like it's your fault because you thought I could behave like that? Tony, it's true I could _never_, never _ever_ do anything like that. But nobody blames you, especially _me._ I'm _not mad _at you for anything other than the fact you _never told me_. I had to find out on my own!"

The billionaire watched those hands cause a crack in the laminate tabletop before he decided to give up. Tony made a b-line for the only exit, grabbing a bottle along a shelf on his way, but Steve caught up with him and reached for his shoulder.

"Tony, you have to listen to me. Hey, hey, come on, _look at me_. Tony," he urged, "_Look at me._"

_ The man continued to stretch his passageway with his finger. He unbelted and pushed his own pants down so they pooled around his knees. Ignoring the loud protests, the shouts, he positioned himself against the abused opening. "Look at me, Tony," Steve smiled, "Look at me."_

Tony squeezed his eyes shut and made a come here motion with his free hand. Just minutes before Steve had arrived, the man injected himself with microscopic metallic points to flow throughout his body. He had been working on a way to suit up without the need for his bots or a platform for a few years now, and the closest way he managed to successfully do that involved a nasty injection that left a horrible taste in his mouth and made his limbs feel stiff. And with his drinking tendencies, his body probably hated the fact he used it as an experimental playground.

When the first piece of Tony's suit flew into the room after shattering a window, Steve let go of the panicked man and watched as the other pieces followed. They latched into limbs and his torso and Tony immediately charged a repulsor but aimed it at the ground.

Steve realized his mistake the second he said those words. Tony looked like a caged dog about to be put down just moments before the helmet covered his face. "Tony…?" Steve put his hands up, surrendering, unsure of what to do. This was worse than he originally thought.

"Stop- Stop right there." His voice was amplified through the faceplate, "Don't come any closer, dear fucking god, do not."

_ "Sir, are you-"_

"Not now, Jarvis."

Steve was frozen on the spot, his face crinkling. "Tony…I…"

"Don't- don't say anything. Just- we need a break, Steve."

Steve looked as though he had been punched in the gut.

"I thought I could do this back in the holding room, but I can't. It's not working out." As Ironman explained to the other man, he also took steps back, toward the demolished doorway. When Tony reached it, he briskly turned and walked away.


	7. Golden Part 2

Steve lived in the Tower's gym when he wasn't needed by anyone. He punched over twenty-five boxing bags until they spouted sand. He sprinted, ran around the track for miles. He did anything he could to take the edge off all his anger, energy, frustrations. He worked until he felt numb, or until his knuckles bled. It was therapeutic to burn off his strength and feel feeble and fragile, like he used to a long time ago. Even if it was for just a few seconds.

_ We need a break_.

He respected Tony's wishes throughout the last two months, although at first it was really difficult. His friends, namely Bruce and Pepper, advised against him confronting Tony again. That he should just wait for the billionaire to come to him. And make sure he didn't appear…_aggressive_ when it happened. Only his team knew everything, because they didn't understand why the two wouldn't speak to each other when they found themselves combating more crooks with ash-inducing bombs. It wasn't fair (or safe) for the rest of the Avengers to be in the dark about the issue, but he made sure to keep the details at a minimum; for his sanity and Tony's sake.

It devastated him, however, knowing that Tony acted and seemed just fine with everyone else. He was sarcastic, quippy. He didn't flinch when Bruce handed him a wrench in the lab or when Natasha managed to land a solid hit in the boxing ring.

_ He's scared of you,_ Bruce commented. _I'm sorry. Just…wait for him to come around._

The image of Tony's bloodshot eyes crying, his body ruined by bruises and sweat and an unspeakable violation. The vivid redness smeared along his thighs.

Steve punched into his current sandbag and the chains holding it up rattled. He thought, vaguely, that he should invest in more punching bags before his anger would have no where else to go.

Tony was scared of him, of his strength. The Skrull had threatened to kill Tony while wearing his face. And the soldier only made the problem worse when he couldn't bottle his anger in Howard's workshop. The billionaire _seemed fine_ before, but Steve realized now that was only because he was trying to put those two weeks behind him. It was tough to avoid an issue when others knew about it.

That damn alien tortured Tony, ruined his skin and pulled his hair. It handled his body like a rag doll. It took him, humiliated him, fucked him, stole him away from Steve. He couldn't even be in the same room as Tony now. Although dead, that damn Skrull had ruined everything. Steve bit his lip so deep he tasted blood.

"Captain?"

Coulson stood in the doorway, a file in his hand. Steve had made amends with the head agent of SHIELD a few weeks ago for killing the Skrull. Thankfully, the man took his explanation without any difficulty but Steve wasn't sure if it was because the man practically worshipped Captain America, or the probable fact that he just didn't care. Either way, the soldier was beginning to like the man as the new director. Fury would have grounded him for weeks.

"They're a branch of Hydra. That's how they keep reappearing around the globe. It explains Times Square and Central Park. We found the heart of the operation located in northern Germany, but only after they attacked the capital just a few hours ago. I contacted the rest of your team. We're boarding the Quinjet in fifteen minutes."

Another mission. Great. Another situation for him to awkwardly ignore his situation with Tony and give the man orders like a good Avengers Leader would.

Steve turned around from his workout, rubbing the blood away from his lip as he unraveled the wrap around his hands. "Yeah, alright. I'll be there in ten."

* * *

Since their argument in the workshop, Steve had only seen Tony once. It was a mission like the one they were on now, but the last one didn't include a ride within the Quinjet. Coulson called for everyone, apparently, and everyone he called was available except for Thor. According to Natasha, Stark tried getting out of the entire ordeal, but Coulson convinced him otherwise.

The Captain walked out of the cockpit when they were closing in on the drop zone. As he collected his shield and placed it on the holster behind his back, Hawkeye jumped down from the ceilings rafters.

"What you did wasn't smart," He fiddled with an arrow between his fingers.

"Excuse me?" Steve glanced along the other side of the jet, where a half-armored Tony was talking to Bruce. He had this conversation with plenty of people already. It was getting old. He knew he messed up. He knew his anger for failing to protect Tony got the best of him and ruined everything. He didn't have to hear all of this again. Especially seconds before a drop.

"Killing the alien. It did more harm than good."

"I did what was best for Tony."

"Best for Tony? Or for you? Look, I'm not trying to preach here. I'm just saying you don't seem that aware of the real issue here. You just kinda confirmed the man's nightmares."

"What are you saying?" Steve looked over at Clint.

But the man just shrugged, reaching behind to place the arrow in his quiver. "You said the thing threatened to kill him. When it was disguised as you. And then you went and killed it. With your bare hands."

"That doesn't mean anything."

The other male made a show of putting on a winter cap, along with a pair of matching archer gloves as the rear hatch began to lower. "Yeah. And Santa is totally real, Cap."

Rogers watched as his team left the jet and into the winter wasteland that was just a few miles off from the German city of _Stendal. _The mission was one that mainly consisted of stealth, so Tony was going to patrol the skies for hot spots in his colorful suit.

The mission carried out as planned, for the most part. They infiltrated, took down, and secured the hub of Hydra within 75 minutes. Rogers spoke through the comms as usual, directing his team as they attacked the base from different approach points. But the Captain couldn't help his mind replay the Quinjet conversation over and over again. Especially when Tony suddenly stopped responding over the mic.

"_Ironman? You there?"_

Even though they avoided each other as Steve and Tony, everything was nothing short of professional in the field. It helped that they had their teammates to surround themselves as well. So when the man didn't answer, Rogers knew it wasn't because of another panic attack.

Something was wrong.

"_Hawk, Widow, do you have Stark's last location?"_

Captain America ran down the empty corridors of the old German castle, looking out every window for a sign Tony was shot down or simply dealing with a malfunction of some sort.

_ "Negative, Cap. Do you need-"_

Rogers noticed the floor crumble before he heard the explosion.

* * *

_ You always held back. I killed him, Tony. I snapped his neck. Tony is the most human out of all of us. He tries to hide these things so well._

Snow fell slowly, but families were swimming in the ocean just a short distance away from the dock. Their faces were skewed and they didn't pay attention to him as they splashed in the waves. An old photo booth from the '30s was far away, floating along the water, but its flashing lights made the colors on everything else seem dull. Small pictures began to fall with the snowflakes, and Steve didn't have to grab one to know they were all of Tony. Ones when he was a child, others as an old man.

The air was cold and Steve's lips felt as they did in the ice; frozen and cracked. As much as he rubbed and stretched them, they stayed icy, uncomfortable. His hands were also cold, but before he could rub them together, a horrible feeling washed over his body.

The ocean froze over. The families continued to jump and play, but the hard ice caused terrible gashes and blood to run down their limbs. A shadow began to emerge from the photo booth, its movements were sharp and uncoordinated. It took jagged steps along the ocean, approaching him with limbs bending at unnatural angles.

The falling photos and snow were frozen in time, floating in the air as the thing continued to draw closer. He watched the creature until it reached the dock. It was completely black, its outline fuzzy with a strange static.

The cold traveled up his arms, into his fingers, and down into his boots.

It just stood there then, watching him.

His body was frozen, it was difficult to breathe. He couldn't reach for his shield and he knew there were no weapons around. The thing seemed supernatural, otherworldly. Its shape kept morphing, but where the head should be continued to stare at him.

But before it could do whatever its purpose was, a warm hand pressed into Steve's frozen shoulder. The ice there immediately fell onto the dock.

"I missed you."

It was Tony, and he used his other hand to melt the ice from his face and hair. His hands were so _warm_. Steve wasn't suffocating anymore and turned to face the smiling billionaire beside him.

The thing continued to stare at Steve, but he didn't feel powerless. Tony stood beside him, melting the ice away from his body. Even the ocean began to thaw and the snow and photos slowly broke free of their trance. The bloody wounds on the people playing dissolved into the air.

Tony's hands stroked his arms, ran through his hair, along his jaw and neck. Heat radiated off every finger and he leaned into the male's touch for more of that warmth.

By Tony's presence, the creature seemed to have crawled back into the photo booth, its lights now off.

The hands continued to travel as he stayed standing. His eyes never left Tony's as the hands journeyed down his chest and abdomen.

"You with me, Cap?"

He stared as the hands swept past his hips, sliding downwards. They suddenly folded over and pressed against the space between his legs. The heat intensified so greatly he gasped.

* * *

"You with me, Cap?"

Steve gasped, blinking. Even with his enhanced abilities, it still took a minute to adjust in the darkness. There was no light where he was, glancing around, but his body was bound and his ass was sore from the hard ground. He ached, his muscles were still stiff, but he held the explosion responsible for that.

"Hey, Cap? What's going on over there?"

He tried to move, _man his arms hurt_, but to no avail. He blinked a few more times, looking down. Rubble littered the cold floor, dust covered his body. Thick chains were tightly wrapped around his ankles and arms, squeezing into the sides of his torso. The bitter air was thick with dirt, but his back felt comfortably warm. As did something else.

The soldier bit his lip and grudgingly glanced at his crotch.

The dream _was_ incredibly vivid, and that never happened before. He let out a frustrated sigh before he could stop himself.

"Cap?"

He felt the wall he was pressed against move.

"Tony?"

"It's a Christmas miracle." Came the immediate reply.

"What's going on? What happened?" He couldn't see Tony in the darkness, couldn't move, but his voice was coming from behind him.

"They tied us together like this. I'm guessing to use as bait. The castle exploded, caved us in. Don't think the last part was supposed to happen." Steve processed the information and gently tugged at the bonds again. He heard Tony grunt, then mutter close to his ear, "Could you stop that? I don't have my armor." So, it wasn't a wall at all. They were chained together, back to back, in the middle of the debris and wreckage of the ancient fortress. Although the situation was less than ideal, at least Tony couldn't see the little, er, _huge_ problem in his pants.

"It's alright. The team- they'll find us." Steve shook his head, trying to flex his muscles to lessen the blood flow but acted as though he was just testing the restraints. The real Christmas miracle would be the team finding them _after_ his damn hard-on went away.

He felt the other male shift in his chains. A few pebbles tumbled down from the nearby cave-in. Maybe a quick search and rescue _would_ be good for Tony, considering who he was tied to against his will.

"Are you hurt?"

"No. You?"

Steve shook his head, then realized that was stupid and said no.

"Can you break the bonds?" Tony squinted, the dust making it difficult to see.

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. He tested the restraints once. Twice. Three times. "Um. No. It's made of something strong. I think they considered tying the hulk with this."

"Huh." Both men sat in the silence of the cave. Drops fell from the ruins, forming puddles along the dirt. Tony felt his heart beat faster, but tried to control his pulse and his composure. He thought he was almost over this. He made a lot of progress during his hangouts with Bruce the last two months. He even made plans to buy Steve something for the holidays. Tony even thought himself ready enough to face Steve the _next day_. Well, hey, what's a day early? "Shit."

"Yeah," Steve realized he had a habit of biting his lip. "Where's your suit?" He felt Tony try turning his head.

"Dismantled. Or…I guess the better term would be in pieces."

"You can't…call for another?" Because calling the suit those weeks ago worked pretty well, Steve wanted to say. But he chose not to. The memory was still recent in his head. _Don't come any closer, dear fucking god, do not._

"Already did. Our location might take it a few, uh, couple hours though."

"_Hours_? I thought it could reach you in minutes. Are there obstacles your suit has to maneuver around while crossing the ocean?"

"_Well_," Steve could practically hear the billionaire's eye roll. He never took the time to understand the mechanics of Tony's suits. Really, he always loved the way Tony's eyes lit up when talking about the stuff instead. "I cut down on the thrusters to enhance some other features."

Steve didn't have to ask what other features. He knew the man was hell-bent on creating some sort of alien, Skrull detection gadget. So when he continued to feel the billionaire shift and struggle and heave against the chains, he changed the subject.

"You should stop that. You'll just wear yourself out."

Tony persisted. His breathing quickened. He tried scooting away as the chains jiggled but Steve's back stayed pressed against his and his body followed Tony's own as he traveled along the ground. Only after moving nothing more than a few millimeters did Tony slump against the bonds. He breathed heavily, but never said anything.

"You have to stop beating yourself up."

Tony scoffed. "That's not what I'm doing."

"Yes. You are."

Neither wanted to address the underlying issue with a ten foot pole, but Steve knew it was an opportune time. Especially when Tony didn't have to worry about actually _looking at him._ Plus, nothing killed a boner for the man pressed against your back like bringing up painful memories.

"I'm sorry about what happened in the workshop." Steve continued before Tony could get his groan out. "But I'm sorry about everything else more. I'm sorry for letting you down. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry you're scared of me because of that. Because you _thought I was there_. I…I could _never hurt you, Tony._"

After a long, quite moment, an odd trembling began to shake the Captain's back. Although Steve couldn't turn around, he could hear the other male shuffle his feet in the chains, feel the shuddering of his body against his. The brunet was either silently laughing, or the exact opposite. Both responses weren't the best, but at least it was a reaction.

For a number of minutes Steve sat in the dark, his butt growing numb from the rocks underneath him as he listened to Tony thrash and silently kick at his chains. He wanted to comfort and hold and ease the man's fears and run his hands through his hair until the anxiety attack was over, but his touch wasn't going to help his problem. It would probably only deteriorate it further.

All the recollections of fear and grief and anger swept through Tony. It made him sweat in the freezing cave, it made him tremble and shake but he didn't have Jarvis to tell him his vitals or even his hands to check and calm his pulse point. He had thick stupid chains and a thick stupid super soldier against his back.

But maybe it was the fact that it was dark and Tony couldn't see much of anything. Maybe it was the apology or knowing the soldier was tied down, too weak to break free. Maybe inhaling the dust was doing something to his brain.

Or maybe it was because Steve kept muttering Tony's name in his sleep earlier.

Whatever the reason, Tony eventually felt his heart rate slow down and his chest feel lighter. He stopped fidgeting. He felt Steve turn his head, waiting. The billionaire took a deep, shaky breath.

"I'm sorry I'm so fucking screwed up."

"Tony-"

"I missed you. A lot."

At the unanticipated confession, Steve had to lift his legs up and try to bring his knees as far as to his chest as they could go. A wave of heat erupted in his pants once again, recalling the dream, but he tried to ignore it. "I missed you too. But you needed your space. So I stayed away."

"I didn't think you'd actually listen to everyone. To me." Tony shrugged through the heavy shackles, "You didn't with the whole don't-date-me thing."

"_You wanted me to follow you_?" Steve was surprised enough to forget he was chained when he tried to face the man. "Are you insane? I thought you were going to shoot me!"

Tony continued the deadpan tone. "And I probably would have. My point is I thought you were stubborn."

"I am. But this was different."

Tony stayed silent.

Steve assumed the man was falling back into his comatose state. "Tony? Just so you know, I miss these conversations. Or, well, just talking to you, in general. I understand if you can't look at me when talking to me anymore."

"It's not that I can't." Tony breathed. "It's just…difficult, I guess. Still. And I know you're pissed about that."

"I could always dye my hair. Grow a beard. If that'd help."

"Steve…" _How could you ever forgive me for what I did? For believing you could actually do those things_? But to the soldier's surprise, Tony didn't say those lines. Instead, he said something the Captain wasn't ready for. "…I think it'd help if you were scrawny again. I thought I liked it rough. Obviously I was wrong."

"Tony-"

"Yeah, and it doesn't help knowing how easy you can kill someone."

Steve tugged at the thick chains, remembering what Clint had said inside the Quinjet. _You just kinda confirmed the man's nightmares._

"I'd _never_ hurt you Tony."

"I…know. I know…that you, that I…." The billionaire sniffled, coughing on the dust. He tried to lean into the curve of Steve's neck. "I…to touch you. I mean, not like that, I just...sorry, no, I think- Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Tony. Stop apologizing. He did this to you. You're not at fault here You never were."

"I never liked not seeing you. I…when I'm with you…." Tony took in a shaky breath. "…I wouldn't mind feeling safe again. That Skrull didn't ruin that, I think, I hope. I …I want to make sure I start feeling that way again."

"That's why you want to touch me?" But the billionaire just continued with his trembling breathing. Steve was losing him again. "Tony, _please_, let me help you."

"I look at you," he almost shouted, suddenly, "I look at you and I see…I…all I can see is _you_ and you're so strong and nice and pure and a great guy and I'm scared, scared that I'll look into your eyes, your real eyes Steve, and I'll look and I'll see just emptiness-"

His shoulders shook and his face crumbled. Tears raced their way down his cheeks and his body shook. Steve had all the prompting he needed.

He gently broke the chains. The snap echoed through the cave, but before Tony could ask what it was, Steve wordlessly took the man into his embrace. Tony allowed to get turned around, and he willingly straddled the Captain's legs along the cool ground. His head fit perfectly into the curve of Steve's neck. He cried, sobbed, and the soldier rubbed his back and ran his hands through his hair in a soothing gesture.

They stayed like that for a while. Tony didn't care if their team busted through the rubble and found him like this. His loved Steve's warmth pressed against his body, it was a heavenly contrast against the cold clothes sticking to his skin. His hands moved unknowingly when the sobs subsided, and found lock in the golden strands. He brushed down to the warm cheeks, the smooth neck, and his fingers slid beneath the opening of the suit. Steve moved slowly, pulling Tony closer and scattered gentle kisses over Tony's tear-riddled face. Tony wasn't sure if he wanted to cry harder or laugh uncontrollably. The overwhelming surge of emotions was deafening, and he could only wrap his arms around the Captain and held onto him as tight as possible.

Everything happening seemed juvenile, almost childlike, and Tony didn't know what to make of it, but he remained motionless and breathed in Steve's smell of sweat and, oddly, cherries. Everything suddenly stopped being so horrible, so messed up and awful. It stopped being terrible for this one moment.

"I'm beginning to like caves," Tony exhaled.

"I don't think I mind the cold as much," Steve murmured back.

They both knew it wasn't going to be easy. There will still be times where Steve will do something unintentional and times where Tony can't help but flinch. But that spark was back, a new flame was lit. It was stronger than the last one. Brighter somehow.

Tony pulled away from the warm body, adjusting from the sudden hardness he felt through the Captain's fabric. "You broke the chains?"

"Yeah, um," Steve suddenly flushed, "I...hope you don't mind. I lied earlier. I wanted the excuse so we could talk."

The look the billionaire gave him worried the other male, made him think he really lost Tony this time. But then a sly smile appeared across those lips. "You were saying my name a lot when you were knocked out earlier. From the sounds you were making, I'm sure you could've punch your way out of the chains with your di-."

Steve cried a little as he choked on his laughter, too happy to hear that mocking quality in Stark's voice once again. He kissed Tony as the smaller male sat along his lap, cupping his face.

They were going to be alright.

* * *

"They good yet?"

Natasha smirked as she eased away from the small hole in the rubble. She turned to her teammates, adjusting her winter cap. "Let's give them a few more minutes."

* * *

Author Note: Yay, story is finished. I'm a sucker for happy endings. And a sucker for the image of Natasha wearing winter gear. Don't hesitate to drop a review! :)


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